Unbalanced Party: Fool Me Cockatrice

Unbalanced Party: Fool Me Cockatrice

  Lee Newman

  Published by Poor Man Press

  Copyright 2012 Lee Newman

  “This is demeaning,” Mordwin sneered. “I'm a mage, not an exterminator.” The group moved through the Trollshank Forest, the midday sun breaking through the holes in the canopy. Shards of light dotted the ground around them as they worked their way down the winding path to their destination

  “Monster hunting is standard adventuring fare. I don't know what you're griping about,” said Daveth, bending a branch out of his way as he led the party. “Branch.”

  “He likes ta hear himself talk, Daveth. If he didna complain, what would he talk about,” laughed Wulf. Released from Daveth's hold, the branch whistled over Wulf's head, catching an already frazzled Mordwin in the face. He reddened spitting out a few leaves and brushing off his robes.

  “I'm simply stating that, as a Third Circle Mage of the Epsilon Tier of Magi, it is beneath me to go rummaging in hen houses for displaced magical vermin.”

  “Aye, again with the accolades? Yer not a member of anything ye gangly waif,” Wulf chided. "They chucked ya out on yer pampered powdered bottom, remember?"

  “Why did they expel you again, Mordwin,” Daveth asked.

  “I- I wasn't expelled! I resigned! Anyway, it's complicated. Differing opinions on the proper methodology of elemental incantations. Inability to accept my advanced level of competence in the arcane arts-”

  “He blew up the entire east tower of the Raven's Hollow chapter. Bleedin' sod's lucky that the High Enchanters put a permanent protection spell on the grounds and everyone survived. Otherwise, he'd be swingin' from that chicken neck of his,” interrupted Wulf.

  “How do you know that?!” Mordwin responded in a shrill yelp of utter shock. He grabbed his head. “Are you using some kind of thief mind charm? Daveth, get him out of my head! Oh, you grubby little trickster!”

  “Cool yer cobbler, squib,” Wulf laughed. “I stole yer diary and read it aloud while ye were snoozin' in camp.”

  “Oh...” Mordwin paused. “Now, hold on a minute! That is a gross violation of my privacy. Daveth, you're supposed to be a paladin. How could you let him do that?”

  “It was pretty funny and it made him so happy,” Deveth smirked.

  “I take joy in the wee things, lad. Ye could learn a lot from my example,” Wulf said with a feigned haughtiness.

  The group emerged from the woods and Daveth called them to a halt. “This is it,” he whispered.

  “Oh for the Ether's sake, why are you whispering? It's just a cockatrice, Daveth," whispered Mordwin.

  "Yer whisperin' too," Wulf said in a husky, rather loud, whisper.

  Mordwin glared at Wulf. Wulf returned his glare with a wide smile.

  Searching for any kind of work to line their pockets and, in turn, fill their grumbling stomachs, the unbalanced party had answered an open service request they had found pinned to the cork board of the Snipe's Tongue Tavern in the sleepy town of Wraithwallow. It seemed that a cockatrice had been sighted on the grounds of a local farm.

  The cockatrice, a rather common pest, was known to find its way onto farms in search of an easy meal. With the head of a rooster and the remaining body resembling a small dragon, the creature was able to turn victims to stone with a glance. This was resolved easily enough by a decent mage with disenchanting experience. It did make the cockatrice a rather inconvenient pest, however. Stories existed of farmers and livestock in rural areas petrified for weeks before someone came looking for them. The experience was, understandably, quite disorienting for the former statues.

  The local magical beast exterminator, Harold, had been sent out a week earlier. He never returned. Fearing the worst for poor Harold, the local magistrate hired several mercenaries who also failed to return. Having been lectured at length by Mordwin on how elementary the task of removing a single cockatrice was and how inexperienced those who had attempted it thus far must have been, the company accepted the request... much to Mordwin's disapproval.

  “It never hurts to be cautious, Mordwin. Humor me,” Daveth said quietly.

  “Oh, Okay,” Mordwin quietly sighed in exasperation.

  “Are ye seein' this?” Wulf asked. The grounds were a veritable menagerie of stone cows, stone chickens, stone sheep, and stone horses. All were frozen in states of distress and surprise. A rustle came from a distant hen house. The surrounding chicken wire was torn open, leaving a gaping hole for something to enter. They proceeded further onto the grounds toward the hen house.

  “This must be one of the mercenaries,” said Mordwin, stopping at rather rugged man of stone. The mercenary's arm was drawn back, appearing to have just released the string of his bow. Following his line of sight, the party found not one but two dead cockatrices on the ground a few feet from the hen house.

  “Well, I guess he wasn't a complete failure,” Mordwin said, one corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.

  “Certainly makes it easier for us,” Daveth shrugged. “Throw them in the sack, Wulf. Time to-”

  “Hang on,” said Wulf. “Look here.”

  On the far side of the coop was a stone Harold, the exterminator. He was stooped down on the ground with his hand out, a gentle expression on his face.

  “What do ye make of that?” asked Wulf.

  “The man obviously had no idea how to deal with a cockatrice,” Mordwin said flatly.

  “Nay, somethin' strange is afoot,” Wulf warily whispered. “Wait. Listen!”

  Soft cheeping was coming from the hen house. A tiny fluffy chick, with feeble little bat wings and a wisp of a lizard's tale hopped out onto the ground. The three adventurers looked at each other.

  “Aw, Hells,” Wulf sighed. “They were nay lookin' fer food. They were nestin'.”

  The chick turned its attention to the party.

  “Turn away! Don't look at it,” Mordwin shouted. The three huddled together, turned their backs, and shut their eyes tight, bracing for...something. The chick cheeped playfully and scampered up to them, hopping around at their feet and tugging at the tassels that hung from Wulf's battle axe, Betty.

  “What do we do now, Mordwin,” Daveth inquired, his speech muffled through his hands that tightly covered his face.

  “I...uh...well, don't look at it, obviously,” Mordwin said shakily.

  “We cannay kill 'im. He's just a wee baby. Aren't ye, ya little ball of feather fluff?” With his eyes still clenched, Wulf crouched down to search for the small chick, patting the ground around him gently with his large dwarven hands.

  “Going soft, Wulf?” Mordwin snickered.

  “Not so soft I won't split ye from base ta face if ye step on the wee thing while I'm down here tryin' ta grab 'im,” Wulf snarled.

  "This is ridiculous," grumbled Mordwin, leaning over slightly and tilting down his head in Wulf's general direction.

  Wulf shot up to meet Mordwin as best he could with his eyes closed as tight as he could squeeze them. Wulf was not entirely sure he was actually staring Mordwin down, and shifted his head and body a few times until he was reasonably sure he was looking him in the face. He wasn't. Completely unaware of Wulf's posturing, Mordwin continued to look as snidely as he could at the spot where Wulf had been.

  "I've had just about enough of yer mouth, Mordwin" Wulf growled, unaware that he was trying to intimidate the top of a slightly stooped Mordwin's head.

  Feeling the dwarf's hot breath on the top of his head, Mordwin gave a start. "What are you doing?!"

  "Givin' ye the evil eye, ye parlor trick pansy!" Wulf gave an mixture of a sneer and a smile.

  "You can't give someone 'the evil eye' if you're not even
looking at them, imbecile."

  “Guys. This really isn't the time to discuss this. Once we're done, you can stare into each other's eyes as much as you like. Right now, we need to focus. Now, no one is killing the chick, but we have to catch it,” Daveth said. “Mordwin, still looking for a “Plan B” here. Anytime.”

  “Hmmm,” Mordwin thought aloud. “Well, I can cast a protection charm on us, but I have to open my eyes. If the chick crosses into my field of vision and we make eye contact, that's the end of that. You're all helpless without me to turn you back if he turns you to stone. Oh! We could blindfold one of us and have the other two guide him to the chick from a distance. Or... I did see a burlap sack hung on a fence when we first walked up. We could keep our eyes shut and carefully walk-”

  “Got 'im!” Wulf exclaimed cheerfully.

  “What?!” Mordwin shouted in disbelief.

  "Scooped 'im up in a little treasure box I had when he was nay lookin'. Let's go."

  “Is it safe to open our eyes now, Mordwin,” Daveth asked.

  With a heavy sigh of defeat, Mordwin said, “Yes.”

  Epilogue

  “This is preposterous! You expect me to just take it on your word that there is a cockatrice chick in that box and pay you an additional ten percent for its removal? What kind of fool do you take me for? No, this is your payment. The contract was for the death and presentation of any monster you found on the property. You have performed that task, this is the payment. Nothing more.” The magistrate opened a chest on his desk and scooped a small handful of gold coins into a purse. He pulled the drawstrings and placed it on the desk in front of him, nudging it a few times toward Daveth, who stood at the head of the group. Wulf seethed just behind the paladin.

  “Listen your, uh, magistrate-ship? I know this sounds like a money play, but we do have a chick here and the removal of the chick is an additional service not covered in the contract,” Daveth negotiated in his best attempt at diplomacy.

  “Maybe we should just take what we think is fair,” Wulf grumbled under his breath, his fingers squeezing the sides of the small wooden box that held the chick.

  “I wouldn't recommend that, you filthy oaf.” The magistrate motioned to the guards that flanked his desk. They began to draw their swords. “This is your payment. Good day,” he said dismissively.

  An enraged Wulf pushed past Daveth. “Look here, ye soft skinned quill jockey! No one calls Bofric Redwulf a liar! No one!” He flipped open the box in the direction of the magistrate's desk. “Look here! There he is! Now, give...us...oh...uh oh.” He softly closed the lid of the box. The chick cheeped and scratched happily inside. The magistrate and his guards, swords drawn at the ready, had been turned to stone.

  “Daveth, this may be one of those 'Paladin Moments' where you advise us on what the righteous path to take here is,” Mordwin said slowly.

  “Do either of you have a burning desire to ever return to Wraithwallow,” Daveth asked.

  “Nay,” said Wulf quietly.

  “There are plenty other filthy backwater towns for us to visit, I'm sure,” said Mordwin.

  Daveth took the coin purse and threw it into has pack. He then lifted the chest and emptied the entirety of its contents into his pack as well. Without a word, he left the room. Wulf turned and followed him, the box cradled tenderly under his arm.

  “I'm gonna name 'im Cheepy, Daveth,” Wulf grinned.

  “We are not keeping a cockatrice,” Daveth yelled from down the hall.

  Mordwin stood there for a moment, looking at the stone magistrate and his guards, then at the open doorway where his fellow adventurers had made a hasty retreat, then back at the stone magistrate.

  “He really is a terrible paladin,” he said to the unresponsive statues, and hurried outside.