From: mmcalees@sol.UVic.CA (Michael McAleese)
Subject: STORY: Dingbat and the Brooch (Part Three)
Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc
Summary: See below
Keywords: None. Really. Oh all right, Dingbat. Happy?
Organization: Those Dudes
Date: Wed, 6 Jan 1993 19:11:07 GMT


                      Dingbat the Monk and the Brooch
                             by "Those Dudes"

(Synopsis of Parts 1&2: Dingbat finds a disgustingly expensive jewel in the
forest whilst off bravely scouting for firewood.  The party rebuffs a
persistent hobbit who claims ownership based on having stolen it from a
warband of orcs.  Rodent kills the hobbit.  The party retires for the night
but is soon swarmed by a large pack of giant rats.  Dingbat is apparently
kidnapped by the rats [which is a strange thing for rats to do - even giant
ones].  Before the party can mourn his passing they are confronted by
Ach'ptooe and his surly band of orcs in search of [surprise] a stolen
brooch.  They quickly confuse the orcs with a line of fast talk and
convince them that combined efforts are needed to find Dingbat, who was
carrying the brooch last.  It takes them only a few days to lose the orcs,
have a pleasant encounter at a barbarian bar and beat some information out
of an elderly man.  The trail leads to the city of Vermouth and a
suspicious wine and cheese shop where they find the monk in the back room
[sans brooch] and a large group of wererats.)

Part Three

     "PLAYDOUGH!" screamed Rodent, leaping back to a defensive stance.
Playdough, who had been taught at an early age to respond to his name, came
charging into the room.  Sauramud, on the other hand, was just on the way
out of the room and they collided with a meaty 'thump'.  Sauramud was
knocked down backward and trodden over by Playdough in the paladin's haste
to get into the fray.
     "Duh, the wiz just bought it." announced Playdough cheerfully as he
laid into a wererat.
     "Nonsense." choked Sauramud.  He struggled back to his feet.  "A
fractured vertebrae at worst.  Fortunately I'm sixth level and can take
such abuse." He scuttled quickly for the exit.
     "If you're okay then get in here and absorb a few hits for us if
you're out of spells, will you?" said Rodent through clenched teeth.
     "Keep yer shirt on." said Sauramud haughtily.  "My magic powers..." He
would have continued, but Rodent fumbled again and tagged Sauramud on the
noggin with his sword on the backswing.
     "Oops." said Rodent.  "Yuck.  He's bought it big time now."
     "It figures..." cursed the wiz as he expired.
     This seemed to inspire Playdough who went berserk and cleaved a
wererat in half with the cry of:
     "Je ne sais pas qui se passe!"
     This cry is rumored to be the last words of the high elf (I say 'high
elf' because he wasn't in the gutter with a bottle) Rene the Frightfully
Nasty, greatest of the ancient elven warriors.  He uttered it from the top
of Drivel Hill only moments before he and his entire army were mowed down
by kobolds.  Although there is no exact translation, the nearest
approximation is,
     "My friends, we are all going to die!" ...or something like that.
Many scholars of ancient elven (and especially elven scholars of ancient
elven) dispute this translation.
     Playdough was doing much better than Rene, however, and cleaved yet
another wererat, and yet another, until at the sight of such carnage the
morale of the remaining lycanthropes snapped entirely and they
surrendered...  whereupon Rodent finished off the lot of them.
     "Well." chortled the paladin.  "That wasn't too hard."
     "Yeah, but we lost the wizard." complained Rodent with grave financial
overtones.
     "But you gained a monk!" chirped Dingbat's voice from where he was
chained up to the wall.  "So you're way out ahead in the deal!"  The
wizard's corpse twitched.
     "Indeed." said Rodent sarcastically.  He eyed the wererats dubiously,
looking for pockets or pouches to root through.
     "Looking for something?" asked Dingbat idly.
     "Duh, where's the brooch?" asked Playdough as he sliced open a few
wererats to see if they'd swallowed it.
     "Stop making such a mess and get me down!" said Dingbat.  "I know
where the brooch is!" Rodent and Playdough exchanged glances, sighed, and
reefed Dingbat's chains off.
     "All right!" said Dingbat, bounding around the room.  "That's more
like it!  When you're a monk, being chained up is such a trial!" He baffed
a few dead wererats with monkish punches for a bit.
     "So?" prompted Rodent.  "Where's the brooch?  We'll have to sell it to
get the wizard raised you know." Dingbat stopped dancing on a dead wererat
and looked embarrassed.
     "Ah, actually, I don't have it." he said sheepishly.  "The wererats
found it when they were chaining me up here."
     "Oh great." muttered Rodent.
     "Duh, you mean we wasted all this time trackin' youse down and
rescuin' you then?" asked the paladin, obviously annoyed with the wererats
(for taking the brooch...  or perhaps not killing Dingbat).
	"Which way did they go with it?" demanded Rodent.
     "I dunno.  They kept saying something about sacrificing a monk to the
great rat god in the secret temple and restoring the holy jewel to the
idol, but that could mean anything."
     "Hang on." said Rodent.  "The wererats have a secret underground
temple in the heart of the greatest city in the land?" The other two looked
at him.
     "Duh, howscum you know that?" asked Playdough suspiciously.
     "Well, it's just a guess." said the ranger.
     "Oh.  Hokey-dokey." said the paladin, promptly forgetting what they
were talking about.  Dingbat meanwhile was rifling the wizard's pockets and
removing sundry items such as healing potions that could be more effective
if distributed properly (i.e.  in Dingbat's backpack).  The body seemed to
twitch more violently at this, but as Sauramud was deader than an orc who
wandered into a dwarven bar by mistake, the monk merely ignored it.
     Sometime later the three living adventurers departed for the marble
opulance of the temple of Le Thick, god of the Western Mountains, with
Sauramud slung over Playdough's back like a sack of russet potatoes.
     "Say Playdough," asked Dingbat, "what exactly does a god of the
western mountains teach in Sunday school?"
     "Duh, I dunno." said the paladin.  "We never talked about it in
paladin training.  Mostly we talked about choppin' orcs."
     "Don't you *listen* during temple services?" snorted Rodent, whacking
Dingbat upside the head.
     "I don't go very much." confessed the monk.  "And everytime I do the
sermon seems to be about how even monks can be saved by the teachings of Le
Thick and healthy donations.  Heck, I give away 90% of everything I have
now anyway."
     Rodent snorted.  "What do you mean you give away 90%?  No wonder
you're always sponging from the rest of us!  We'll have to cut down your
share more."
     "Well I don't..." began Dingbat hotly, then he paused and seemed to
think a moment.  "Hey!  What do you mean 'cut down more'?!?"
     "Well it was brought up that you seem to waste all your treasure, not
needing to buy weapons, or armour, or magic stuff, so..." began the
paladin.
     "Just *who's* idea was that?" cried the monk, bounding up and down in
anger.
     "Not mine." chorused the two fighters.
     "Oooooh!" snarled Dingbat.  "Let's get him raised so I can kill him
myself!" He booted the wizard's corpse a few times (which, in spite of
being dead, spasmed angrily).  "Just how long has this been going on?"
     "Duh, what year is this?" asked Playdough.  There was an uncomfortable
silence.
     "Well, let's get on with it." said Dingbat frostily.  He grabbed a toe
of one of Sauramud's sneakers and started dragging the corpse to the door.
The wizard's head bumped along the way to the temple until Playdough
grabbed the shoulders when he noticed the corpse was leaving a bloody
trail.
     The party wound their way through the city past the vendors, beggars,
hookers and thieves (the latter three increasing in number as they
approached the temple).  The temple itself was an impressive stone edifice
lavished with majestic carvings and bas-reliefs of hard working, smiling
people forking over their life savings to the priesthood for the good of
all.  Several grimy, flea-bitten adventurer types also appeared in the
bas-reliefs, generally dragging a corpse (or two) with contrite expressions
on their faces.  All in all the effect was quite profound on the pious
masses below.
     As usual, the party had to beat back the beggars and cut off a few
probing hands as they made their way up the front stairs.  They entered the
darkened vestibule and were ushered forward by a temple acolyte.  The group
looked around expectantly, propping Sauramud up against the altar and began
rifling through a stack of old sermon notes on a nearby table.
     Finally they were approached by a figure garbed in expensive (but no
less tacky for all that) robes.  He cleared his throat politely to get the
party's attention and said,
     "Good day gentlemen, as always it is a pleasure to see you.  What
brings you into the temple on this fine day?"
	"We have to see the high priest." said Rodent.  "It's urgent."
	"Oh no." said the priest sourly.  He looked pointedly at Dingbat.
"You don't need anouther Cure Disease do you?  Didn't we talk about that
the last couple of times?"
	Dingbat, who had been attempting to 'shush' the priest up to that
point just hunkered back a bit looking rather embarassed.  Rodent was
indignant.
	"So THAT'S where the money in the resurrection fund has been
disappearing to!  And here I've been telling everybody that the temple was
overcharging us for the service!"
	"It's not like you think..." began the monk sheepishly but the ranger
cut him off with a savage smack to the side of the head.  He turned again
to the priest.
	"We really do have to see the big guy.  It's about our friend over
here who's a little under the weather."
	"Huh?  You mean that dead wizard who's leaving a nasty stain on our
incredibly expensive ivory altar?" asked the priest sardonically.  "Any
priest in residence can perform the proper burial rituals.  Why do you need
to bother the head priest for such a trifling matter?"  The wizard's body
gave another one of those funny twitches and, were it not dead, looked
about to speak angrily.
	Rodent sighed.  "How do they always KNOW when we don't have enough
money?"
	The cleric looked smug.  "First level spell."  The ranger was not
impressed.
	"That was a rhetorical question.  Now, can we puh-lease get in to see
the high priest or do we have to make a scene like we did the last time?"
	"He's busy." said the priest shortly.  "Can't see anybody today.  All
booked up for the next week.  Come back next Thursday."
	"NEXT THURSDAY?!" bellowed Playdough.  "This is STUPID!  What kind of
Mickey Mouse temple is this?"
     There was a distant rumble of thunder and a ceiling tile fell on the
paladin's head.  The monk and the ranger edged subtly away from him.  A
moment later the high priest came barging into the nave wearing his smoking
jacket and clutching a Virgin Bloody Mary in his hand (the one that wasn't
wrapped around the virgin in any case).  A lit cigar protruded from his
mouth, wafting fumes vaguly reminicent of temple incense towards the party.
	"What's going on here?" he demanded.  "Who's blasphemed in the
sanctuary again?" He stopped short when he saw the party milling about.
"Oh, it's you.  I thought we excommunicated the lot of you."
	"That was last month your holiness." said Rodent.  "Before we paid up
our back tithes.  Which is why we are somewhat financially embarassed this
time..." The high priest cut him off with a backward wave of his hand.
	"Nix!  No credit.  New policy."
	"Bullsh..  I mean hogwash!" said Rodent, hauling out his ratty copy of
the temple teachings.  He flipped it open to a marked page.  "Let me refer
you to chapter eighteen." He assumed his preaching stance and began to
read,
	"4> And Le Thick spake unto the masses saying 5> Behold I am a neat
guy 6> and the people did applaud and were content." he paused a moment.
"Maybe I'll skip a bit here...." he flipped a couple of pages further ahead
until he found the passage he wanted.  "Here we go.  256> and the holy
warrior didst appear before the high priest to petition Le Thick to succor
his companion who was dead 257> and the high priest didst look upon the
face of the dead and was moved.  258> But it came to pass that the holy
warrior was short on gold and could not afford the ministrations of the
temple.  259> Le Thick didst speak and said unto the priest 260> Behold
this loyal warrior who dost seek succor but cannot afford the reasonable
fee 261> and the priest didst reply Oh Omnipotent one shall we then throw
him out on his ear?  262> And Le Thick didst reply saying 263> Nay, for
being a holy warrior of the fold we shall offer him credit at a reasonable
rate of interest with easy payback terms to be negotiated later..."
	"Wait a minute." interrupted the high priest.  "What revision of the
_Most Excellent Teachings of Le Thick_ are you reading from?  I think you
will find that the wording has changed a bit since you bought that copy.
It seems that the ancients translated a word wrong in the original text."
	"Eh?  What word?" asked Rodent skeptically.
	"Well, it seems that wherever you see the word 'credit' you should
substitute it with the word 'discount'."
	"How much of a discount?" asked Playdough, clasping his dangerously
light money pouch.  The high priest looked over at the wizard and eyed the
damage.
	"Not a lot in this case" he admited.  "There's an awful lot of damage
to the head."
	"That's normal." said Dingbat from where he was standing by the
automatic holy water dispenser plugging in gold coins and filling a few
flasks (from which he had poured out the oil into the baptismal font to
make room).
	"Be that as it may," said the priest.  "The question of a discount is
right out."
	"Well geez!  How are we gonna go out and kill the evil temple and get
the brooch back without the wiz?" asked Playdough.
	"Evil temple?" asked the priest, pricking up his ears.
	"Yes!" said Rodent quickly, linking an arm with the priest and
steering him away from Dingbat (who was attempting to jimmy the coin box on
the holy water dispenser), "An evil temple of wererats right in the city of
Vermouth!  Just imagine the spiritual torment they must infict on the
citizens..."
	"Spiritual torment?  Who cares about that?  They are going to cut into
our tithes among the populace!"  Rodent stumbled a second, then continued
smoothly,
	"Of course they will...  UNLESS..."
	"Unless you boys go out and snuff the lot of them!" said the priest
beamingly.  "Wonderful!  Off you go now."  Rodent coughed.
	"There's still the matter of us being understrength due to the loss of
the wizard.  I don't see how we can see our way clear to performing the
temple this little service without a raise dead spell, and substantial
numerical compensation."
	"You would blackmail the temple?" gasped the priest.
	"Duh, yes." said Playdough, who had tagged along with them.  The
priest eyed them for a few moments, then smiled.
	"You boys have learned well from the teachings of Le Thick.  You shall
have your spell, yea and even a thousand gold into the bargain, providing
you return to us the heads of these false wererat priests."
	"Done." said Rodent and Playdough in unison, nearly drowning out the
sound of one of the temple bouncers tackling the monk as Dingbat was
thwacking the holy water dispenser with his joy-stick.
	"What IS that grotty little man doing?" said the priest testily.
	"It ate my gold piece and didn't give me any holy water!" cried
Dingbat as he was dragged up in front of the priest.
	"Now look!" shouted the priest, taking his cigar from his mouth and
flinging it to one side.  Unfortunately he flung it right into the the
baptismal font that Dingbat had emptied his oil into - which promptly lit
up with an impressive "WHUMP" sound.  Pandemonium ensued, with acolytes
desperately attempting to beat the flames out of the gold embroidered silk
hangings festooning the walls of the temple.
	"Look, a sign!" screamed a parishoner in the front row, swooning with
religious fervor.
	"Like hell." muttered the priest, casting a quick raise dead spell on
Sauramud.  The wizard blearly stumbled to his feet as the ranger and the
paladin snaffled his arms and half-carried him out.  Dingbat tagged along,
the bouncer having been dragooned into beating out the rising flames.
	"...and even a thousand gold into the bargain!" Rodent was explaining
to the confused wizard.
	"Let me get this straight," asked Sauramud.  "We have to kill an
entire temple full of wererats?  You're mad.  You're all mad."
	"Damn rights I'm mad." cried Dingbat.  "That cheap excuse for a
vending machine ate my lucky gold-plated lead piece."

End of Part Three
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
-- 
*     mmcalees@csr.uvic.ca (Michael McAleese) : I speak only for me...       *
  "Man can believe the impossible, but never the improbable." - Oscar Wilde
  (For snooping governments: heroin, cocaine, FBI, CSIS, CIA, albatross...)


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