Free Critical Failures II (Caverns and Creatures Book 2) by Robert Bevan

carrying two giant trays which were covered in piles of bacon. “The sun is up. It’s a brand new day.”
    The floor came alive with bodies moving like recently animated zombies trying to orient themselves. Only Tim was as quick to his feet as Cooper had been. Cooper frowned as Tim rushed over to the elf corner and snatched his sister’s character sheet out of Julian’s hand. Seeing the look of relief on Tim’s face, Cooper’s mind went back to the smell of bacon.
    “Where did you get all of this bacon?” asked Cooper.
    Frank kicked a dwarf who didn’t seem quite motivated enough to wake up just yet. “Our rangers and druids took down a few boars a couple of days ago. We’ve got pork chops for lunch.”
    Cooper’s eyes began to water. “I don’t think I want to leave this place.”
    “Well hopefully that’s a choice we’ll all have to make in the not-too-distant future,” said Frank. “Just mind you don’t fuck it up for those of us who do want to return to our homes.” He stood on a chair and raised his voice. “Now eat up everyone. Let’s make this a good day. Those of you with jobs, go to work. Bards, get on those street corners and sing your asses off. Wizards and sorcerers, start writing and brewing your most profitable scrolls and potions. Everyone else, see me for assignments. And anyone with ranks in either the local knowledge or Gather Information skills, please stay behind. Remember, everyone. We may have an opportunity to go home. It’s a long shot, but if it works, it’s going to cost money. So fucking whistle while you work.”
    The yawning mass of bodies unceremoniously scarfed back strips of bacon and drank cups of watered down beer until their bellies were full and their eyes were open. About a dozen people stayed behind while everyone who knew their jobs shambled toward the exit.
    Before anyone could leave, the door swung open, sending an elf flying backward to fall on the floor. In the doorway stood the baddest-looking motherfucker Cooper had ever seen. The figure all but filled the doorway, and actually had to duck its head under the frame to step inside.
    The sleepiness had gone from everyone’s eyes. No one dared move nor make a sound.
    Now that the figure had moved in from the light of the doorway, Cooper was able to get a better look. It was another half-orc, only this one was far bigger than Cooper. Charcoal grey armor covered him from head to toe. It was dented in places. Metal patches had been welded on in others. It had seen its share of action. The helmet was the same color, save for the two horns protruding from each side. The only pieces of the armor which didn’t match were the gauntlets. They were silvery blue, and polished to a reflective shine.
    “Good morning, Frank,” said the half-orc.
    Frank stood up straight atop the table. “What are you doing here, Eric?”
    “My name,” said the giant, removing his helmet to reveal a surprisingly handsome face for a half-orc, “is Pestilence!
    His presence was enough for Cooper to take a step back, but Frank stood his ground.
    “Your name is Eric Weinberg. You’re a pimply-faced little brat who takes his books and dice home every time somebody orders something other than pepperoni on the pizza.”
    “You forget yourself, Frank,” said Eric, or Pestilence, or whoever the fuck he was. He stepped forward, and the crowd gave him a wide berth. It only took two strides for him to be right in Frank’s face. Even with Frank standing on a table, this half-orc still stood over a head taller than him. “I could tear you apart right here and now.”
    “You can’t take us all,” said Frank. Cooper wondered whether the little guy was putting up a front, genuinely this badass, or just plain suicidal. “You forget our arrangement. We don’t bother you, and you stay away from the Whore’s Head. I repeat. What are you doing here, Eric ?” Frank spoke his name as if he was daring him to make a move.
    Eric grinned. “Fine,”