Critical Failures III (Caverns and Creatures Book 3) by Robert Bevan Read Free Book Online Page B

wretched thing a wide berth. Scott supposed it was good that there was someone in the tavern more hated than themselves. And then its one creepy white eye locked on to his. It grinned at him, its four rotted teeth showing through cracked, bleeding lips. It hobbled toward their table.
    “Alms for the poor?” the thing repeated.
    “We gave at the office,” said Milton. “Beat it.”
    The creature rattled the rock inside its cup too close to Eric’s face for comfort. “Alms for the poor?” Eric’s jaw tightened. The vile beggar didn’t know what it was getting itself into.
    “All right,” said Scott, not wanting Eric to make a scene. It had been a long day, and he just wanted to drink the rest of it away in peace. He reached into the coin pouch tucked under his robe and pulled out a copper coin. He placed the coin into the cup, where it made a much more convincing clink of metal upon metal. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
    Eric let out a soft snort.
    The beggar began coughing violently. It was a wet, phlegmy cough which grew louder and louder until a gob of blood and phlegm flew out of its mouth and stuck to Eric’s arm. It was a swirl of red and yellow, like ketchup and mustard.
    Eric stood up, towering over the old beggar. He pointed a massive finger into its face. “You’re pushing your luck, you creepy old faggot. Now get lost, before it –”
    “Temper temper, Pestilence,” said Nathan. They called each other by their game names in the presence of locals. Nathan had that kind of creepy presence where he barely needed to speak above a whisper to interrupt a pissed-off half-orc.
    Eric wiped the bloody phlegm off his arm and flung it down at the beggar. “I said it’s time to go.”
    The beggar grinned up at Eric and shook its cup. “Alms for the poor?”
    Eric drew his sword. “I’m giving you one last chance to scram, you stupid piece of –”
    “Pestilence!” said Nathan. It was rare that he raised his voice even to the conversational level he did now.
    All eyes in the tavern were fixed on their table. The patrons knew them well enough to keep their distance, as none of them could take the Horsemen in a fight. But if they all joined together... Eric wasn’t the sort to weigh all of the possible ramifications of his actions before just jumping into something stupid. The assault on the Whore’s Head Inn had been his idea, and he was the only one who hadn’t regretted it the next morning when they all sobered up.
    Scott was trying to think of something he could say to calm Eric down, but the tavern owner beat him to it.
    “Get on yer way now, stranger,” said the unusual-looking dwarf from a raised platform behind the bar. Unlike most dwarves, the owner of the Stone Dragon Tavern shaved the sides of his face, leaving behind only an impressive set of lamb chops, a thick handlebar mustache, and a beard which, while long and braided, was only allowed to grow directly under his mouth. “These folks shared their coin with ye. Now get on outta here before ye get yerself hurt.”
    Scott knew the tavern owner had no love for his group. That exit order had been strictly meant to protect this old beggar. But the beggar didn’t even seem to hear him. It just continued grinning up at Eric, jiggling his cup.
    “Alms for the –” The beggar sneezed into his hand. When he pulled it away, it was covered in more snot than should have been able to fit inside the thing’s whole hollow head. “Excuse me,” it said, and then wiped its decrepit hand on Eric’s pants.
    “Well shit,” said the tavern owner.
    “Why you little…” Eric was too enraged to finish his sentence. He thrust his sword into the pitiful creature’s gut.
    The beggar let out a small grunt as the sword entered its belly. It gagged, like it was going to hurl, but no vomit came out. Instead, the end of Eric’s sword did, as if it had curved around inside the creature’s body.
    Scott stepped to the side and looked behind the