Hesketh Tolson
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RS 36: Counting Crows
🕑 Added 2021-06-01 14:11:52 +0000 UTCChapter 36
Counting Crows
“How long will it take us to get to the gate?” asked Epic. The substantially larger sabre-toothed tiger wound its way between her legs, nearly tripping her up in its attempts to console her. Epic stroked Stinkums’ head, smiling at the answering purr.
“How long will it take to get through the gate?” said Hugo.
“I don’t know,” said Joan. She pursed her lips, looking up at the carriage with some regret. “But we better do a very quick shop and get going straight away.” Fred patted her on the shoulder.
“It won’t go to waste,” he said.
“I know,” she said.
The party made their way back to Merry Plebbingtons. The streets were decidedly quiet. They split up, and half an hour later they were done, purses substantially heavier, and Joan’s potion kit restocked. They all carried a decent amount of food. Fred had suggested buying meat pies from the new baker, but the suggestion had been heavily vetoed.
“Surely that’s too much,” said Alice looking at the great piles of trail mix and sandwiches.
“For today, sure,” said Joan. “But we don’t know what the gate will open out into. Could be a wasteland, could be a desert. Could be a dungeon at the bottom of a castle full of vampires with nary a cheese shop for miles.”
“Perish the thought,” said Fred.
“I mean, probably not,” said Joan. “Since we are still relatively early in the game but still. Better to be prepared. And we don’t want to be overburdened either. Until we get better luggage.”
They set off into the wilderness, lugging their packs and following the map. After a couple of hours they stopped for a brief meal. Several hours of hard walking later they arrived at the gate.
A small town of vendors and crafts people had sprung up around it. Bunting was strung from the trees. Music hung on the breeze and NPCs were hawking their wares, doing a steady trade. The atmosphere was rather merry, with a slight undertone of discomfort.
“Oh, we could have shopped here,” said Alice.
Joan looked around rather disdainfully.
“No,” she said. “Most of these are scammers. Price inflation. Preying on the desperate. We did it right.”
A pretty woman in a peasant dress rushed up to Alice, clasping her hands together imploringly.
“Help me out, miss! My sister’s gone missing!”
“We’re fine,” said Joan, firmly, marching on. Alice looked at her askance. “What?” said Joan. She was clearly in progression mode. “There’s always some quests,” she explained, seeing everyone’s expressions. “For the people who haven’t levelled high enough to enter the gate. But we are fine, and we are cutting it close enough as it is.”
“Right,” said Alice. “Right. Sorry,” she said to the peasant woman. “Maybe that party can help you?” She pointed over to a group of lost-looking geriatrics in rather rusty gear.
“Come on,” said Joan.
“No time for the weak!” said Fred. “Come on, lads.”
“Psst,” said a guy, standing in the shadows. Joan narrowed her eyes and marched past, ignoring him. “Psssst!” he said again.
“Uh, Joan?” said Hugo, “I think that man is trying to get our attention.”
“We don’t have time to stop for every scammer or stray quest!” said Joan, her lips pressed together in annoyance.
“How do you know he’s a scammer?” asked Epic. Everyone looked the man up and down. He was wearing a long black trench coat, dark shades and little black boots with no socks. He was clearly a scammer.
“I am not a scammer!” said the shadowy man. “The nerve!”
“Okay,” said Joan. She wheeled about to face him, arms folded on her chest. “So, what do you want?” The shady man lifted up his sunglasses and beamed.
“Jack The Lad here, at your service, fine woman. Anything you need, I’m the lad for you. Anything. Anything at all. So. Any of you need extra levels?” he said. “I’m selling!”
Joan lifted one eyebrow at the rest of her party, turned and started walking.
“Gah,” said Alice, and they set off after Joan.
“No, really!” he shouted after them, “it’s not a scam! It’s a service! A helpline! One day you’ll need me. You’ll all see! Whahahah!”
They reached the entrance to the gate without any further interruptions. A massive blinking red ‘x’ was fixed over a cave entrance. A small goblin was set up in a booth to one side. It was not Betty, Fred was disappointed to see, but a young goblin man with a yellow polka dot bowtie and a beige check shirt.
“You are all level ten or higher?” he squeaked at them.
“Yes,” said Fred.
The goblin leaned forward, inspecting them through oval spectacles that balanced on the end of his nose.
“Good,” he said at last. “Once you pass this entrance you cannot go back. You can only go forwards. You clear the level or die. Anything you have left here, any items, any people, they remain here, you cannot retrieve them. Is this understood?”
They nodded.
The goblin stamped a sheet of paper in front of him with some evidence of satisfaction, signed it and tossed it onto a pile behind him. “Good luck,” he said.
“Thank you,” said Joan.
They walked past the little booth and into the cave.
It was dark.
Two silver sconces burst into flame, illuminating the cave with cold, flickering shadows. They could now see a single, nondescript door on the far side of the cave. Over the door was an inscription, elegantly written in a flowing silver hand.
It read:
‘One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told, eight for a wish, nine for a kiss, ten for a bird you should not miss.’
The letters sparkled as they caught the light. There was silence as they all read, lips moving, and brows creased in thought.
“Alright,” said Hugo. “Now what does all that mean?”
“Counting crows,” said Fred and Epic at the same time. They smiled at each other. “Jinx. Hahaha.”
“Okay,” said Alice. “I’m glad you old farts are in the know, but we are still oblivious.”
“I mean, me too,” said Fred, with a shrug. “It’s just an old nursery rhyme. If you see a crow, or a magpie, that’s what it means.”
“What it’s supposed to mean,” said Epic, “one is unlucky, two means you will have happiness et cetera.”
“I assume they are clues,” said Joan.
She walked across the cave, poking at the wall, inspecting the floor.
“Any traps?” asked Epic.
“None that I can see.” There was nothing there, just dust and rock. Joan reached out and tried the door handle. She rattled it backwards and forwards but to no avail. “Perhaps it’s a riddle we need to solve to get through?”
“Speak friend and enter?” asked Hugo. “That sort of thing?”
“Maybe,” said Fred.
They all stood back and looked at the door, brows creased in thought. It was a plain wooden door with a silver knob, and the small silver 1 resting in the centre of its stout wooden heart. Just below the ‘1’ was a door knocker, shaped like a small, fat face. Its eyes were closed.
“Hang on,” said Fred. “Remember Jessamy?”
“How could we forget,” said Joan, smiling.
“Is it a magical door knocker?” asked Epic, peering up at it. She tapped it carefully, on the nose. The silver eyelids popped open.
“Bingo,” it said. “I mean - I’m not really a door knocker. More of a gargoyle.” It beamed at them, chubby cheeks round and silver.
“Can you help us?” asked Joan.
“My lips are sealed,” said the gargoyle. It pressed them together meaningfully, and proceeded to watch the party with great interest. Metallic eyes glittered. The effect was rather uncanny.
“One for sorrow,” mused Fred.
“Ug,” said Alice.
“Maybe we have to cheer it up?” said Joan. They all looked at the gargoyle which beamed back at them. “Are you…sad?” she asked awkwardly.
“Nope!” said the gargoyle, its grin stretching wider.
“Are we supposed to tell you jokes?”
“Oh, please don’t” said the gargoyle. “No offence.”
“Maybe we have to tell it something sad,” suggested Hugo. They all looked at the silver gargoyle. It raised its eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
“Okay,” said Alice. “I’ve got one. Your brain starts to deteriorate at 27.”
“Nice,” said Fred. “Thanks, Alice.”
The gargoyle didn’t move.
“Oh! Oh!” said Hugo. “Weird little microscopic mites are probably having sex on your eyelashes right now.” They all blinked furiously.
“I don’t have eyelashes,” said the gargoyle.
“We’re all going to die,” said Epic. They all looked at her. “What?” she said. “You know it’s true. Oh, and when you watch tv and there is a laugh track? Those people are probably all long dead. So you are sitting there on your couch, laughing along with a bunch of dead people.”
“It’s not working,” said Fred. “I mean, it’s getting to me but the gargoyle seems happy enough.”
The gargoyle gave a merry, hiccupping little laugh. They pondered.
“Hmm,” said Hugo. “Maybe it needs to be something sad about one of us?”
“Go on then,” said Joan, flapping her hands at him.
Looking self-conscious Hugo stepped forward and cleared his throat. The little silver gargoyle looked up at him expectedly.
“Well,” he said. “The day after I died I-I was supposed to go on my first date. I mean my first proper date. His name was Luke. We met on the beach the summer I was a lifeguard. Sometimes I dream about him and wonder what it would have been like. And I wonder if he misses me.”
“Oh, that is sad,” said the gargoyle. The door swung open.
The party exchanged glances and walked through. Alice squeezed Hugo’s hand, and Fred patted him on the shoulder.
“It’s finnnne,” he said, embarrassed.
[ding! New Quest! Hugo Balls. Go on a date.]
“Aww,” said Fred, as Hugo blushed furiously. “See? The dungeon cares.”
The passage beyond was dark, and lit with smoking sconces. At the end of the passage was another door. It was almost identical to the first but had a few, significant differences. This door was marked with a number ‘2’ and the gargoyle on this door looked on the verge of tears. It sniffed as it saw them.
“What,” it said. “What do you want?”
“Two for joy,” said Joan. She looked around, eyebrows raised. “Okay now we know what to do. Anyone?”
“Okay,” said Fred. He marched up to the door. “I’ve never been happier,” he said. “I have everything I’ve ever wanted – friends, a lover, adventure, excitement – and it's glorious.”
The gargoyle sniffed, squeezing out a little, crystalline tear that glittered over its fat silver cheek.
“That’s really nice,” it said, and swung open.
They walked through it and down the brief passageway to the next door.
“Three for a girl,” said Alice, looking up at it. This one didn’t have a gargoyle, just a knob and the letter ‘3’. She shrugged and twisted the knob. It popped open. “That was easy,” she said.
Hugo opened door four.
Door five was something different, a masterpiece in shining silver. The number ‘5’ was etched into the shining surface in ebony black. There was no gargoyle, only two outstretched hands protruding rather creepily. Carved in blackest obsidian they held out a deep, dark dish.
“Five for silver,” said Hugo, nervously. “What does that mean?”
They stood in a cluster, musing.
“Anyone got anything silver on them?” Epic suggested. “Maybe we have to make an offering.” They all looked at the dish.
“A sacrifice?” said Fred, scratching his chin.
“Ug,” said Joan. “Oh all right. I knew it was too good to keep.” She dug out the Silver Ring of Healing and placed it in the dish. It dropped with a metallic clink. The door slid open.
“Six for gold,” said Fred. “This one is easy.” He plopped a gold coin into the black dish and door six swung wide.
“Seven for a secret never to be told,” said Joan looking up at the next door. This one had a large, wide faced gargoyle.
“If it’s never to be told how can we tell it to the gargoyle,” said Hugo.
“Maybe it means, to the gargoyle but never to anyone else,” said Alice. “Like ever?”
“Semantics,” said the gargoyle.
“Hmm,” said Joan. “Okay, who's been keeping secrets?”
Everyone exchanged glances a little awkwardly. Epic wriggled in her shoes.
“I’ve got one,” she said. She handed Stinkums to Fred. His legs buckled under the weight. He looked down into the face of the not quite so baby sabre-toothed tiger.
“You really are quite stinky,” he said, conversationally. Stinkums purred at him, and tried to pat his chin with one rather large paw.
Epic approached the door, her face losing a bit of colour.
“Right in here,” said the gargoyle. It swivelled cheerfully, presenting her with one large, bat shaped ear. Epic licked her lips, then bent over and whispered. She straightened. The gargoyle frowned. It swivelled back towards her, with its brow furrowed like it had been run over by an overly zealous farmer with a plough.
“Oh no, my dear, no, no no,” it said. “You are going to want to share that one at some point. I can’t accept that. Tell me something else.”
“I can’t think of anything else,” said Epic, her hands balling into fists.
“Don’t worry,” said Fred. He stepped forward and heaved Stinkums into her arms. She clutched the tiger gratefully.
Fred leaned over the gargoyle and whispered: “Last night I farted on Joan while she was sleeping.”
“That’ll do,” said the gargoyle with a giggle. The door swung open revealing door number nine.
“Nine for a kiss,” said Hugo. “Who wants to kiss the gargoyle?”
“Eww,” said the gargoyle. “No, thank you.”
“Well, if we are not supposed to kiss you,” said Alice, “what are we supposed to do?” The little gargoyle yawned, but did not offer any comment. The party exchanged looks. Hugo gave Alice a chaste peck on the cheek.
“There,” he said.
“Gross,” said Alice.
“1/10,” said the gargoyle. “I’ve seen better from my maiden aunt after she’s been at the sherry.”
“You have a maiden aunt?” asked Fred. Joan elbowed him in the stomach.
“Will you concentrate?” she said.
“What?” said Fred. “Oh, yes, of course.” He bent Joan over and frenched her enthusiastically for several minutes.
“Minus ten psychic damage,” said Alice.
Fred set Joan back on her feet and she gasped, her cheeks flushed.
“Very nice,” said door number nine, and swung open.
They trudged through it.
Instead of another door they found themselves standing under the open sky. The sun was sinking to the west, and the heavens were a haze of purples, greys and deep, indigo blues. Before them lay an enormous rocky arena. The edges were lined with branches, twigs and trunks, all mashed and woven together. The floor, which dipped in the centre, was likewise strewn, with a few outcrops of rock protruding through the layers of twigs. Visible on the other side of the arena was a large, circular door with ‘Level 2’ worked into it in glowing silver.
“I assume that,” said Fred, “is the final gate?”
“I think that’s a fair assumption,” said Joan, quietly.
“Ten for a bird you should not miss?” said Epic. Everyone stared out at the mess of branches before them.
“I can’t see a bird,” said Hugo.
“It’s a nest,” said Fred. “Look at the shape of it.”
“Shit.”
“That would be for a very large bird, then,” said Joan. Her eyes sparkled.
“A bird we better not miss?” said Hugo.
“Yup.”
They all stared out at the enormous nest. Everything was quiet. Ominously so. The empty space yawned enticingly, beckoning them forward.
“There’s nothing there,” said Alice.
“There is plenty,” said Epic. She pointed. “Look! There. And there.”
Alice squinted, and then started as she realised some of the piles of debris weren’t sticks or rocks, but bones. Bones picked clean by scavengers. More disturbing was the pile of pink, half chewed carrion, raw and fleshy, still hanging off a large ribcage. Whether it had been human or animal was difficult to ascertain from this distance.
“Lots of shinies as well,” said Fred. Here and there broken mirrors and oval looking glasses lay, some smashed, some leaning precariously against the twigs. Piles of glittering silver beads and coins lay here and there.
“My money,” said Hugo, “is either on those skeletons coming to life as we go past. Or something nasty that we haven’t seen yet waiting to turn us into skeletons.”
“Or both,” said Epic, glumly. “The bird, don’t forget the bird. Where is it?” But there was nothing in sight, just the mess of twigs.
“Shall we try stealth?” asked Fred. He hefted his staff, suggestively. “Everyone ready?”
“Might as well,” said Joan. “No point waiting about.”
She put a foot down, carefully easing forward. One after another, they followed her.
The wind blew mournfully. It whistled through the gaps, making the hairs on the back of Fred’s neck prickle. They followed Joan in single file, eyes darting in every direction, waiting for the attack they knew was coming. Epic and Stinkums brought up the rear, the sabre toothed tiger kit moving soundlessly on ghostly paws. Across piles of twigs, past broken treasures, they went. They wended their way between broken mirrors, and around piles of sparkling gems. They were halfway across. Fred began to think they might make it to the door. But of course, that was the way the game was set up.
SNAP.
Epic stepped on a twig.
The sound cracked like a bullet. Everyone froze, as if they were playing musical statues. WHOOSH. Something large dropped out of the sky, and landed with a crash. Something piebald.
“Well helloooooo Mr Magpie,” said Fred, his hair blowing back.
“Caww,” said the Magpie. It was approximately the size of a barn. It flapped its wings and they struggled to stay upright in the resulting gale. The giant bird dove at them, its black beak flashing. They scattered. Epic, and Stinkums fled to the far wall, Fred ducked behind a rock. Alice and Hugo ran in the opposite direction.
“Good, good!” shouted Joan, as she pounded her way across the nest, “confuse it!”
“Yes,” muttered Hugo, diving into a roll as the beak lunged towards him. “Let’s act like this is strategy! Owww-”
[Hugo Balls -20HP]
“Watch it, Hugo!” shouted Alice, as the magpie pecked at his ankles. Hugo scuttled backwards on his rear, trying to escape. It advanced on him with bird-like quickness.
“Oi!” shouted Alice. She chucked a femur at its head. It bounced off one side, giving Hugo time to leg it. The magpie skidded to a halt and cocked its head. Bright, beady eyes landing on Alice.
“Cawww!”
“Uh, oh.” Alice sprinted across the width of the nest with the magpie on her tail.
“Try and keep your distance!” yelled Fred. “Ranged weapons!”
He shot his crossbow, scoring a hit on the bird’s shoulder. Hugo recovered himself and managed to get off two fireballs.
[Magpie -21 HP -10 -10 HP]
Alice twisted, hurling a dagger over her shoulder at one glossy, obsidian wing. It found its mark, leaving a crimson smear. This just seemed to make the magpie angry. It screamed, focusing its attention on her. Alice leapt out of the way with a cry. It swept her over with a wing and kicked her in the back.
[Magpie -15 HP]
[Alice69 -20HP]
The magpie jabbed forward, coming away, not with a mouthful of flesh but a mouthful of her favourite remaining dagger. It spat the blade onto a pile of silver.
“Thief!” cried Alice, spinning around and raising her fists. The magpie looked down at the angry girl, its eyes glinting. Fred could have sworn the beak parted in a grin.
“Alice! Watch out!”
One giant talon sank into the pile of branches where Alice had been standing moments before. Wood snapped. The talons gouged massive claw marks into the trunks, with an agonising screech. Alice scrambled out of the way. She fell, half running, half crawling, skidding over bones and twigs as she tried to escape the corvid’s wrath.
“Over here!” shouted Joan. The magpie ignored her. “Here!” she shouted, grabbing a large mirror shard. She chucked it at the magpie but she was too far away. It smashed uselessly against a branch. Thinking quickly Joan grabbed another, angling it so that it caught the light. The dying sunlight turned the mirror shard to a flash molten silver.
“Caw!” said the magpie, turning its head instantly. The beady black eye brightened. It hopped forward towards Joan. It smashed through the branches as Fred and Hugo pelted it with crossbow bolts and fireballs. Each foot fall made the nest vibrate with the impact. Alice ran. She dived behind Joan, just as the bird lunged for her again.
Joan moved, just a little, standing solidly in front of her friend. The magpie swiped at her. It left a thin gouge in her robe. She was knocked back a step. Two. Not much damage. Joan smiled. She brought down her staff with a solid thud, on the bird’s beak.
[Joan of Snark -5HP]
[Magpie -25-5-10 -15-15HP]
The magpie feinted left, lunging. Trying to get at Alice. Joan moved with it, then lifted her staff and brought it down again, with a crack. This time the magpie dodged.
“A little help here, guys,” said Joan. “It’s learning.”
“Arrrggghhhhhh!” screamed Epic. She threw her morning star with all her might. It landed on the magpie’s head with a satisfying bonk.
[Magpie -55HP]
“I’m not convinced that’s the most efficient way to use a morning star,” said Fred. He unloaded his crossbow into the magpie’s back.
[Magpie -15HP]
The creature threw back its head and cawed. The sound rumbled through their bones, vibrating through the nest, making the twigs vibrate. The magpie took to the sky with thunderous wingbeats. This time the wind knocked everyone flat, except for Joan, who managed to remain upright, feet planted far apart, and hair steaming out behind her.
“Watch out!” she cried. “It’s coming do-”
Everyone rolled away as the magpie landed with a tremendous crash, sending a shockwave through the nest.
[The Fredinator -25HP]
[Epic Failure -25HP]
[Joan of Snark -10HP]
[Alice69 -25HP]
[Hugo Balls -25HP]
Fred cranked his crossbow, and Hugo, Alice and Joan pelted the magpie with star fire, bones and mirror shards, respectively. Epic stalked to the front, her face set. It lunged at her, striking Epic with its beak. Epic buried her war-axe in its side. Stinkums rushed over with Epic’s missing morning star. The Magpie kicked out with a talon, catching the sabre toothed tiger in the belly.
“No!” shrieked Epic, turning pink. She grabbed a loop of silver beads and whipped it over her head like a lasso. She let it fly, striking the magpie in the eye. The small woman fell on the bird hacking at its side with her axe and screaming obscenities.
[Magpie -30-45-15-55HP]
“Come on!” yelled Fred. “While Epic’s nice and pissed!”
They laid into the beast. Spells, sharp and blunt weaponry, bones and mirrors pelted the magpie as the party gave it everything they had.
[Magpie -20-25-55-35-15-10-15-30-15HP]
The magpie threw out its wings and shrieked.
“Arrrrghhh!” shouted Epic, landing a particularly passionate blow on the bird’s head.
[Magpie -75HP]
It exploded into a flock of cawing, screaming birds, all of them flapping and chattering. The party fought, furiously, chopping and slashing. Birds and feathers rained from the air in a torrent of black and white down.
At last none were left.
The birds lay on the ground, their blood staining the branches.
The party stood, sides heaving, weapons cakes in gore. They looked around, watching. Waiting for another attack. With a faint sigh the birds disappeared, dissolving into the dungeon.
On the far side of the arena the gate swung open.
[ding! Congratulations! You have passed all the doorways!
All party members +100XP]
[ding! Congratulations! You have defeated the Magpie Boss!
All party members +300XP]
[WELL PLAYED]
[WELCOME TO LEVEL 2]
Joan of Snark Lvl 12
XP: 1859
HP: 390/464
Epic Failure Lvl 11
XP: 1850
HP: 40/96
The Fredinator Lvl 11
XP: 1658
HP: 45/68
Hugo Balls Lvl 10
XP: 1499
HP: 11/40
Mana: 2/30
Alice69 Lvl 10
XP: 1453
HP: 13/52
