A Half Baked Plan

“I’ve got a plan!” Gingor sprung from his seat after having said nothing for the past hour. “All we need to do is buy bombs. Yes bombs, and many of them. Then blow the beast all to hell!”

After many of the group nodded in agreement, they looked to Dimbop for approval. “Thank you for that input, Gingor. Truly you are a fountain of wisdom. Now does anyone else have a better idea? Anyone at all?” 

The rest of the mercenaries said nothing, merely pondering the idea of the monster which plagued the area being destroyed in glorious fashion. 

“Please for the love of the gods, anyone at all?” Dimbop pleaded once more. 

Splinko slammed his empty cup on the wooden table after finishing its contents. “You’re the damned leader, Dimbop. Make a bloody decision. Besides,” Splinko burped with a forced that shook the basement which they resided in, “I don’t see why bombs are a bad idea.”

I am the leader of half wits. Dimbop thought, but held his tongue. “Hmm, let’s think, perhaps it is because bombs are more expensive than the entire reward for slaying this beast? Or better yet, because we have a wizard who can conjure the same power if only he wasn’t too lazy to do so!” Dimbop, along with everyone else, looked at the nearly asleep Frumpo. 

“Huh?” Frumpo lifted his head. “Me?” He yawned. “Yeah, I guess I could do it, maybe. It’s such a hassle though. Lots of thinking involved.” Frumpo didn't feel like speaking anymore so he rested back into the chair, finding a comfortable position.

Dimbop rubbed at his temples to soothe his growing headache. “We’re all going to die aren’t we?” He didn’t mean to say out loud. 

“Course we ain’t.” The burly voice of the burly man known as Brumgee said from the corner of the basement. A greatsword the size of man rested across his lap. “We don’t need Frumpo, he can sleep all he wants. I’ll take the bastard on myself.” 

“I like the confidence Brumgee, but there’s no universe which you defeat a Cavegoyle in single combat.”

Brumgee’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit, is that what we’re fighting? I thought we were after a goblin or something. Yeah I’m not doing that, my apologies.”

Dimbop, as stupid as it sounded, knew Brumgee was telling the truth. For what he had in brawn, the brains simply weren’t there in that man. In fact, brains were not present in many of this small band of mercenaries. They were a poor group, just starting out. The machines of war other groups had to defeat such foes were simply not afforded to them. But they needed this job if they wanted to eat. This was their last chance, and Dimbop knew it could be done. 

“Frumpo,” Frederick nudged the young wizard slightly, “what is it going to take for you to blast this Cavegoyle back to the depths from which it came?” 

Frumpo, through bleary eyes, stared forward in thought. “I could really go for some pie right about now. Preferably blueberry.” 

“You want the baker to make you a pie right now? When nightfall is soon to arrive, along with the beast that will surely demolish this town and everyone in it?” 

Frumpo nodded slowly. 

Dimbop looked around to his men, who looked back at him. “Let’s get this man a pie.” 

The town baker was perhaps the oldest woman currently residing in the kingdom. As kind as they come though. She didn’t seem to mind that ten or so mercenaries were making a nuisance in her bakery near closure. But baking a blueberry pie at this hour was not something she seemed keen on doing. 

“Yes, Miss Plopper, I am aware that the hour is nearing on your bedtime.” Dimbop spoke in as nice a voice as possible. “Are you aware that a Cavegoyle will soon ravage your town again come nightfall? The blueberry pie is imperative in its defeat.”

Miss Plopper leaned her ear closer. “What’d you say, son?”

Not sure how to respond, Dimbop halted for a moment. “Did you happen to hear anything I said just now?”

“What?” She yelled louder. 

Dimbop breathed in deeply, keeping rage at bay. He was on the verge of becoming a worse threat to everyone around him than any Cavegoyle could hope to be. 

Splinko placed a hand on Dimbop’s shoulder, sensing the malcontent. “Don’t worry boss, I got this. You have to say it with your diaphragm.” He stepped to Miss Plopper, sucked in air, and yelled with might. “Blueberry pie goddammit! Can you make it?”

  “Oh the pie.” Miss Plopper seemed to get the gist. “You’re still going on about that? I’ll make it, I suppose.”

Sighs of relief from the group, except for Frumpo, who was leaning against the back wall snoozing away. 

“It’s going to cost extra though.” 

“How much extra?” Dimbop asked, afraid of what he might hear. 

Miss Plopper began doing mental calculations for longer than was comfortable. “Twenty gold.” 

Relief turned to despair quickly. A family of four could survive months off twenty gold eating three square meals a day. Whatever math Miss Plopper did was taken from the book of scammers and con men. I should’ve just bought bombs. 

“Whatever, take my goddamn money.” Dimbop tossed twenty hard earned coins he wouldn’t get back onto the counter. “Let’s make this quick.”

An hour passed by, and the group understood that the word ‘quick’ meant nothing to old Miss Plopper. The dead moved quicker than she. Even so, as slow as the process was, a magnificent blueberry pie was coming along. For as deaf and slow and conniving as the old woman was, she knew her way around sweets. Though Dimbop worried it would not be completed by the time the Cavegoyle awoke. 

At a rare point when Frumpo was alert, Dimbop attempted a negotiation. “So, old pal, say hypothetically the pie is not ready by the time the beast makes its appearance. Are you still going to help destroy it?”

“It's possible.” Frumpo responded. 

“That doesn’t fill me with confidence. I just don’t want us all to die a horrible death. Might make me look like a bad leader otherwise.” 

“Then you probably shouldn’t have gotten us hired for this job. But that’s just me. You do you. My mind is on that pie and nothing else.” Frumpo’s face turned from its usual blank tiredness to something devilish. He wanted that damn pie. 

The last of the sun's light fell below the horizon. The only light now was from the moon, the street torches, and Miss Ploppers oven. All the townsfolk shut themselves into their homes and barred the windows. It was a foolish attempt at safety, no wooden wall was going to stop what was coming. 

The mercenaries all rallied into the main street, getting ready for the assault. 

“Well men, this is it.” Dimbop spoke to the crew and they listened intently. “Frumpo has yet to taste the sweetness of pie. But according to him, ‘it’s possible’ that he helps us defeat the beast before he digs in.” 

“He bloody better!” Splunko yelled, still thinking he was talking to Miss Plopper for some reason. 

“If you don’t,” Brumgee made an intimidating gesture to Frumpo, “I’ll have your head.” 

Other mercenaries whose names Dimbop couldn’t remember joined in on the intimidation. 

“Quit your whining, folks.” Frumpo rubbed his eyes. “I’ll help, I guess. But the second that pie is ready, I’m scarfing down.”

Thank the heavens. “Good. Now, from what we heard from the townsfolk, the Cavegoyle is nesting to the east. It will most likely be coming from the treeline there.” Dimbop pointed eastward, or at least where he hoped was east. “If we set up on the edge, all of us can provide Frumpo enough time to charge whatever spell it is that can kill a Cavegoyle.” 

“Uh sir.” Randall, who hadn’t done anything of note up to this point, spoke up shyly. “I don’t mean to ask stupid questions or anything.” 

“Ask away, Randall. I’m immune to stupid questions by now.”

The group stared at Dimbop, wondering what that was supposed to mean. 

“Uh, how exactly are we supposed to fend off a Cavegoyle?” Randall finally asked. 

The rest of the group echoed Randall’s sentiments. 

That was the question which had Dimbop convinced they were all going to die. He was unusually calm about it. If he was going to die, he would die. If the gods intervened and they survived, then that’s how fate would have it. It was at this point, he would simply go through the motions of the rest of his life. It was out of his hands.

“Great question, Randall. If I had to guess, I’d say your weapons probably. You know, the same weapons you’ve been training with and using for years. You will quite literally slash with those weapons at the beast. The coolest part, the damn thing might even die from it!” 

Randall looked as though he had just imagined such an act. “That’s why you’re the boss, Dimbop.” 

Walking to the edge of the forest, the mercenaries began to set up. Dimbop ordered them all into position, hoping for some attempt at a sneak ambush. They had never done anything of the sort in practice, but they heard from others that ambushes were sometimes an effective strategy. 

Frumpo sat closer to the town on a nearby stump and had his eyes closed. Dimbop assumed he was preparing the killing blow, but nothing important was occuring. 

“You’re powering it up right?” 

Frumpo opened his eyes and glanced to his side. “Am I supposed to?” 

“Yes, you’re fucking supposed to!”

“Alright alright. I didn’t know it was coming, like, right now.”

“What the hell did you think we were doing here? Just sitting around shooting the shit?” 

“I don’t know, man. I just follow you guys around.” Frumpo sat up slowly and put his hands together in front of him, creating a triangle shape with his fingers. “This will take some time. Just make sure I’m not eaten until then.” 

Dimbop didn’t respond, almost hoping for his death. 

It didn’t take long for the deafening roar of the creature to sound from deep within the darkness. Soon, they heard trees crashing downward. Unless some unusually strong winds happened to be passing by, everyone surmised the Cavegoyle was on its way to be a dickhead.

“Prepare yourselves, men. Pounce when it passes near.” 

The darkness was still overbearing, but the basic outline of the monster came into view. It was larger than any of them had originally thought, reaching at least twenty feet in height. Most wanted to flee and run, it was only fear which kept them planted in place. 

Creeping closer and closer, they could see the Cavegoyle walking on two legs, each stomp of its foot creating tremors in the ground. In its right hand it carried a crushed and broken trunk of a large tree, presumably to use as a club. It even had a strip of dirty cloth tied around its waist to protect its genitals from people looking at it. 

It had always been known that Cavegoyles were too dumb and stupid and brainless to use tools or wear clothing. It's clear they’ve evolved somehow, which did not bode well for the mercenaries' odds of success.

The Cavegoyle stopped for a moment and sniffed the air viscously. It let out a groan of delight and continued onward. The mercenaries didn’t stop to think about what they just witnessed and sprung into action as soon as it came into striking distance. 

Brumgee was the first one into action, bringing his ginormous sword across the creature's belly. The blade clanged off, barely making a scratch, though Brumgee wasn’t deterred, he kept wailing away, doing minimal damage. The others joined in, having even less of an effect. 

The Cavegoyle was surprised by the assault at first, staggering backwards. Though, he caught his bearings rather quickly, and swung the large tree trunk at his assailants, swatting them away like flies. 

“Oh dear god.” Dimbop whispered. “Frumpo! How’s it coming?” 

“Close.” Frumpo said with his eyes closed, still in the same position. His fingers now were glowing slightly. 

Dimbop took it as a good sign and charged in with his brethren, stopping the further march of the beast. 

Six of the group were either killed or injured in the ensuing battle. All that stood now were Dimbop, Splinko, and Brumgee, the rest were sprawled in the dirt, mangled. 

Just before the Cavegoyled raised its weapon in the air to claim the final lives of the group, Frumpo raised his voice for the first time in a long while, “It’s ready!” 

This caught the dumb and smelly Cavegoyle’s attention, causing him to walk over and cease the wizard’s blabbering. Dimbop smiled, for he knew the beast’s end was near. Frumpo’s hands were glowing bright, almost too bright to look at. 

“Finish it!” Dimbop called out. 

Just then, a green mist spewed from Frumpo’s hands, letting out the sound a fart would make. For fifteen solid seconds this would carry on, the echoing sound bouncing all around.

The Cavegoyled covered its nose from the foul smell, letting out noises of agony. It even reached the rest of the group, almost knocking them unconscious. 

“Oh shit. I charged the wrong spell.” Frumpo didn’t sound distressed, merely surprised. “Well, time to run.” And he did. 

Dimbop, who had already accepted death prior, didn’t react too harshly. If that was what was meant to happen, it had happened. Splinko and Brumgee didn’t share the same mental calmness. Dimbop didn’t care what they were yelling about, but many curse words were thrown around.

The Cavegoyle was quite angered by the little stunt Frumpo pulled and began its rampage through the town, destroying buildings, even going so far as to be eating folk. Foul business truly. 

Dimbop knew Frumpo would have run off to one place only, Miss Ploppers, for that sweet sweet delicious pie must have been finished by now. His prediction was correct, and Frumpo waltzed into the bakery, heading no mind to the brute wrecking the town. Dimbop followed after him, realizing the only thing left for them to salvage was their lives. If they could escape the town, then they might as well try to. 

Inside Miss Plopper, who wasn’t aware of the destruction occurring just outside her door, pulled the steaming hot pie from the oven. “Now it will be a bit hot, you know.”

“I don’t care.” Frumpo responded. 

“Suit yourself.” She handed him a fork. “You want some too?” Now looking at Dimbop. 

He ignored the old woman. “Frumpo, let’s get the hell out of here. While we still can.”

“Not until I’ve devoured this pie.” Frumpo’s eyes were burning with the desire now.

Frumpo took his fork in hand, and mere moments before plunging it into the delicacy, the Cavegoyle burst through the wall and smashed its club down onto the blueberry pie, then brought it up again and smacked Frumpo out the door onto the street.

Miss Plopper screamed in terror, then either passed out or had a heart attack. The Cavegoyle grunted and moved onto the next house, as if the whole ordeal was some cruel joke played on the farting wizard. 

Dimbop ran outside to the unmoving wizard. He tried to roll Frumpo over to look at the damage but his body was too hot to touch. Even underneath Frumpo’s clothing, it was clear his entire body was now glowing. Dimbop backed away as Frumpo began to rise, floating upwards in the air. 

“How dare you. How fucking dare you! Ruthless bastard, you took everything from me.” Turning around, Frumpo’s eyes had turned entirely white with power. “I will make you suffer.” He stretched his arm out and grabbed the air with his hand. Pulling it to the left, the Cavegoyle was ripped from a nearby house he was ravaging and was now floating in the street along with Frumpo. The Cavegoyle began to contort, its bones snapping and breaking. When Frumpo reached the height of his concentration, the Cavegoyle exploded into bits, blood and guts raining all over the town. Then silence.

Everyone, those still alive at least, were not sure how to react upon the sight of such power. It was only when Frumpo collapsed back onto the muddy street that people came fully into view.

“Is it over?” Splinko asked, walking from the treeline. 

“Appears that way.” Dimbop said, wiping a spleen from his shoulder.

A boy covered in dirt ran up to them. “Is the town saved, mister?” 

Dimbop looked around to the demolished remnants of homes and buildings. “What’s left of it, I guess.” He was glad he didn’t have to live here a second longer.

Frumpo awoke in a somehow groggier state than usual.

“The hero of the town! He’s alive!” The boy exclaimed. 

Brumgee walked over and helped Frumpo up, who seemed unaware of where he was. 

Other townsfolk came to shower the mercenaries in praise and thanks. 

“We’ll never be able to repay you.” One old man said. 

“I think there’s one way.” Dimbop said. 

“Name it.” 

Dimbop looked to the pleading eyes of a Frumpo. “One blueberry pie.” 

Frumpo smiled upwards with gratitude at Dimbop, his friend, maybe soon to be lover no one knew yet. That would have been a twist. 

“Well, uh, Miss Plopper is dead and she was our only baker, so…” The old man rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Oh, then the original payment plus twenty extra gold will do just fine.” 

Payment and thanks were exchanged, and what was left of the mercenaries went on their merry way, onto their next exciting adventure. Hopefully with less farting and more intelligence.