It wasn’t dungeoneering season, so the dungeon was as still as a museum with no exhibits and as clean as a latrine that gave you super tetanus. Being an artiste, the Dungeon Master didn’t encourage random encounters. He wanted every encounter to have a meaning, Goddess have mercy.

Hilda and Philly, after struggling for half an hour to close the secret door to their cavern, crossed the former troll cave, presently just a cave with some dead trolls in it, and started down the corridor toward Mina’s room in the chapel. Ordinarily, a chapel would have three encounters and no treasure, just like any other large chamber, making it a very unpopular destination for adventurers. However, Hilda had slaughtered its original denizens -- a demented dwarf heretic and a werewolf with an identity crisis. Its other denizens -- a pair of gargoyles she liked to call eggplant and piggy -- were so dense they wouldn’t notice a dwarf even if she stood before them and cried out all 99 names of the Goddess, including the secret one you weren’t supposed to reveal to strangers.

Hilda had to admit that ever since she and Philly moved to this section of the dungeon, it’d started looking a lot better. At least a lot better than the rest of this “artistic” dungeon.

A crazy human warlock named Sejavy had cleaned all the rooms along that corridor. At the time Hilda was very salty about it because he’d taken all the treasure and almost killed her in the process. Right now, however, she quite enjoyed the peace and quiet left in the wake of his senseless rampage.

Reconnecting with her elven heritage, Philly had spent months painting over the crude hand art that once covered the tunnel walls. Hilda expected that the sex-crazed ghoul to paint a lot of bad porn and was surprised to learn that the ghoul was working on a magical nature scene full of butterflies, flowers, unicorns, maidens with long flowing hair, and fat and jolly dragons surrounded by cheerful fairies.

Hilda sighed. It wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was art. A lot of effort and emotion went into it. She doubted much would remain come dungeoneering season. Kobolds would draw tiny dicks on the fairies, orcs would piss on the trees, and dumb ogres would lick painted food because this is what dumb ogres did.

Then adventurers would come with their fireballs and lightning bolts and insect plagues and nothing but heartbreak would remain of the once colorful fresco. Ah well, such was love, such was life, such was being a creature that could make up her mind if she was a monster or an adventurer.

Philly pointed at a blue fairy near the ceiling. “This fairy is based on my mother.” She said proudly.

“You remember what your mother looked like?” Hilda asked, not sparing the drawing a second glance. She was more concerned about things that could eat her in defiance of the dungeon master.

The ghoul frowned. “Who said anything about my mother?”

Hilda turned to stare at the ghoul. “You just--”

Turning a corner, the two women were confronted with an unpleasant surprise. It seemed that someone moved into the chapel after all. Specifically, half a dozen orcs with green snouts and nasty, chipped tusks that smelled like, well, no worse than Philly did to be honest.

The beastial humanoids wore black leather armor decorated with crude images of skulls and bloody hands and were armed with crude spears and axes, except one warrior who wielded a graceful spear of obvious elven design.

One of the orcs had a ritual scar across its face and wore the skull of some large bird on its head. Probably a shaman or a warlock. If the former, then the thing was probably female. It was difficult to tell the sex of the brutish creatures.

The band had erected a barricade of rocks and shields before the entrance to the chapel and stuck two large banners behind it. One depicted a poorly drawn human skull and the other a severed hand giving you the finger.

Hilda swallowed. This wasn’t a positive development. She then glared at the ghoul. If the stinky creature wasn’t skipping like it was a walk in the park, Hilda would have smelled or heard the monsters before walking right into their barricade. Now it was too late to consider a different route. With her short legs and heavy armor, she couldn’t outrun most dwarfs, let alone these long-limbed savages.

“Hoi!” the biggest and ugliest orc barked. “Watcha bitcha thinka doin’?” Its Common was so poor it took Hilda a few seconds to decipher its meaning.

“Going to chapel,” she said, raising her shield and hammer and assuming a fighting position. “Let us through. We don’t want to fight.” She and Philly could probably take the orcs in a straight fight, but added protection from the barricades made the outcome of this encounter far less certain.

“Gonna to chapel, ya?” the orc nodded. “Thata be 200 gola’ cons.”

“The fuck is a golcon?” Hilda asked, narrowing her eyes at the lead orc.

“I think he means gold coins,” Philly whispered in Hilda’s ear. The ghoul was crouching behind the dwarf. Hilda knew this wasn’t cowardice. As soon as blood starts flowing, the ghoul would be in the thick of it, biting off noses and tearing our larynxes like she was shopping for murder. Hiding behind the heavily armored dwarf was just a reasonable tactic for the unarmored monster. Hilda approved. No one handed prizes for showmanship in combat, only for victory.

“I know.” Hilda whispered back. “I was just stalling.”

“Hoi, fatta!” the orc growled. “Prica just wanna up 50 cons! Ya waita loner, ya suck ar’ cocks too, ya?”

“Alright, alright!” Hilda raised her hand in a gesture of appeasement, balancing her shield on her knee. “A girl has to know when she’s defeated.”

“She does?” Philly asked, surprised. “Are we going to suck their cocks?”

Hilda stared at the ghoul. The ghoul tilted her head at the dwarf. The orcs exchanged surprised glances.

“Only,” Hilda went on, “I don’t have 250 gold coins on my person right now. I can give you 100 now and 150 when I return. Would that be acceptable?”

“Bitcha!” the orc with the scar roared, “ya fuckin’ with us?”

“I’m trying not to…” Hilda whispered to herself.

“I don’t mind…” Philly said.

Hilda rolled her eyes. Living among monsters was such a chore. Almost as bad as living among dwarfs.

She turned back to the orcs. “Look, I’m a paladin. I can’t tell lies. If I do, I’ll lose my powers, just like your clerics do if they don’t spill blood for a month.” (Hilda almost added, “or brush their teeth.”) “I promise you: when I pass through here again, I’ll drop the remaining 150 gold coins.”

A few months ago, Hilda gained the Judge prestige class, which gave her expertise in Diplomacy. She wasn’t the diplomatic type before, but now that she had this skill at such a high level, she tried to use it as often as she could. Mostly to try to convince the ghoul to put on a tunic, without success. However, one time she managed to avoid a fight with some lizardmen who’d surprised her, naked and unarmed, during a purification ritual at the pond. She wondered if she earned any XP for avoiding fights using Diplomacy. She wondered if there was some way to abuse this ability to gain XP just by talking to people…

“Ag’red!” the scarred orc said after a consultation with its fellow bullies. “Throa ya cons to us, then we letta pass.”

“Thank you,” Hilda said and bowed her head demurely. “You won’t regret this.”

She took out her purse and threw it at the orcs. The orcs shrunk away as if it was about to explode. It didn’t. Still suspicious, one of the orcs used the tip of its spear to lift the purse and shake it in the air. Content that it jingled metallically instead of exploding murderously, it handed the purse to the scarred one, who snatched it and quickly shoved it down its armor.

“Can we pass now?” Hilda asked.

The orc grunted and moved aside, leaving a narrow gap for the dwarf and ghoul to walk through. Carefully, Hilda slipped in between the burly humanoids, making sure to touch them as little as possible. Her paladin class gave her immunity to disease, but it didn’t make her any less squeamish.

One of the orcs slapped her on the back of the head, nearly causing her to topple into the muck. (Why was there always muck wherever these pigs camped? Did they bring it with them from the Old Country?)

Philly hissed and exposed her black fangs at the orc. It took a step back and clenched its spear nervously. Hilda didn’t blame it. A few months ago, she saw the ghoul bite a man’s hand off in one chomp. However, now would be a terrible time to start a fight, surrounded from all sides by armed and armored monsters.

Hilda grabbed the ghoul by the hand and pulled the creature after her. She felt Philly trembling with rage. Hilda couldn’t blame her. Orcs really were the worst.

There was a lot of not blaming going around in this encounter. Hilda hoped this wouldn’t upset her Goddess. Hilda was a paladin and a judge. She absolutely could and should blame monsters. She made a mental note to be less reasonable in the future.

One of the orcs tried to touch the ghoul but the monster slapped its hand away. Wow, it took talent to be rejected by a ghoul…The orc turned dark with rage, but its companions didn’t let it strike at the ghoul. They too understood that starting a fight now could end very poorly for their band. They’ve already had their reward, so why risk it?

Finally, the two women finished pushing through this malodorous humiliation and entered the wide and relatively less revolting chapel. A brief glance ahead showed that the corpses of the evil dwarf and his werewolf companion were gone. Hilda suspected Philly had something to do with it and that it had something to do with her morning breath…

The orcs jeered and hooted but Hilda paid them no mind. Nor did she let go of the angry ghoul. After measuring sixty one steps she turned around to face the orcs again. Philly stopped a few steps later and looked quizzically at her dwarf companion.

One of the orcs noticed Hilda looking at him and wrinkled its snout at her. “Bitcha crazy? Walkaway! Go! Go!”

With a fluid motion, Hilda hurled her battlehammer at the monster. The monster opened its mouth to scream. It ended up swallowing all its teeth before the top of its head exploded, showering its remaining companions with blood and brain tissue. Wow, starting a fight with a crit! Maybe the Goddess approves after all!

Before any of the orcs had time to blink, the hammer turned around like a boomerang and slid back into the dwarf’s outstretched hand. Hilda glared at the monsters grimly and shouted, “She who’s with the Goddess to me!”

Pale light washed over her and the ghoul, filling them with confidence and righteous fury against injustice and the enemies of the gods.

Philly shivered. “I feel tingly all over. What did you do?”

“I cast the Blessing of the Moon. It grants a divine bonus to attacks, damage, and saving throws.”

The orcs bellowed obscene battle cries and charged at the glowing women. One orc stayed behind, working on a ritual of its own.

“Ah… What now?” the ghoul asked hesitantly.

“Now,” Hilda raised her shield and straightened her back. “We kill everybody.”