to discover the answers this very night.
Gord's eyes nearly popped from his head when they entered an establishment called Rosey's. The sign, appropriately sprinkled with rosebuds, didn't half prepare the young adventurer for what awaited inside. There were only a few patrons, all male. But the proprietress and her staff numbered at least a dozen and a half — and greater beauties Gord had never seen gathered together in a single place! He scarcely had time to wonder why the tavern wasn't jammed to the rafters with panting swains. Then a pair of buxom tarts were upon him, offering him drink and companionship, and before Gord knew it he was being led toward the stairs. He was escorted past the huge ehjure, who was holding a tall, willowy woman on his lap. 'Hey, Pinkus! I thought you said humans were ugly,' Gord playfully taunted.
The ogreling scowled at Gord, retorting, 'They are, niggling — but I didn't know that you went for my type!'
Something clicked in Gord's mind. 'Your type?' he asked, the horrifying reality of the situation sinking in at last. The two girls tugged on him, trying to pull the young thief away, but Gord would have none of that. Plinkus was pouring wine down his gullet, but Gord didn't let that put him off either. Pulling free of the pair of wenches, he walked over to the ogre's table and peered closely at the big woman sitting on his lap. Pinkus slammed down his tankard and jumped to his feet.
'Get the hell away from my female!' he roared at Gord.
This action rudely precipitated the object of Gord's scrutiny. As the ogre-magus sprang to his feet with intent to do serious bodily harm to the young thief who was ogling the female of his choice, the beautiful young thing struck the floor — and a strange thing happened. The force of the impact caused her form and features to waver and, for a second, the female's true appearance was revealed. Gord caught the transformation out of the corner of his eye. Springing back, he shouted, 'The wench is a hag!'
'Of course she is!' screamed the enraged Pinkus as he advanced menacingly upon the young adventurer. 'And you can't have her, you filthy human lecher! Go find your own!'
Gord ducked under a wild swing and danced behind the ogre-magus's back, calling to Chert to beware. He saw that there was a bevy of these seeming lovelies surrounding the big barbarian, and Gord suspected that they were not as they appeared at all. Meanwhile, Zimp and a pair of his comrades had rushed over to assist their young captain, thinking that Pinkus was about to make mincemeat of him. Of course, they did not reckon with Gord's incredible agility and acrobatic skills. Roaring and cursing, the ehjure was attempting to lay his taloned hands upon Gord and rend him limb from limb. Pinkus was both tipsy from wine and naturally slow. Gord was neither, and he easily avoided every attack, causing the ogreling to paw the air and charge bull-like into furniture and patrons alike.
In a minute a general brawl was in progress, with wenches forgotten or else taking part in very unladylike fashion. Suddenly the whole room went dark. It was so black that not a single ray of light could be detected.
Gord always carried his enchanted shortsword at his hip, and as soon as the darkness descended, he grasped the hilt and his eyes were empowered to see in the gloom. In addition to the groping and stumbling motions of the patrons, Gord noted that several of the people in the tavern were moving freely and with purpose. In the strange illumination that his blade enabled him to discern, the women were no longer young and beautiful. In fact, many weren't even women at all! In the shelter of the darkness the hags had dispensed with their magical disguises, and the young thief was able to spot a half-dozen crones heading for the stairway. Nearby were a pair of green hags, a shellycoatm an annis, and a leering night hag. Unfortunately, the latter was looking squarely at Gord as he stared in stupefaction at her.
'Well, well, my pretty,' the creature cackled at the young thief, 'it happens that you have the power to see in this dark, do you? Now what shall old Auntie Scroddy do with such a naughty boy?' Gord waved his sword at her, for she and her associated horrors were coming toward him.
Just then Pinkus, whose natural resistance to magic made the lightless spell useless against him, stepped between these monsters and their victim. 'If you want action, baby, forget that little punk and look for a real male!' he boomed, showing his huge tusks in a suggestive smile. At least Gord assumed that was what the ehjure was doing from the tone of his voice.
The night hag simpered and replied, 'Oh, you are a smooth talker, handsome, but right now I have to take care of a little business. Can you wait a couple of minutes?'
The annis, easily as tall as Pinkus, shoved the night hag aside with a snarl. 'Find your own lover, you pruneface!' she screeched as she clutched the ogreling's arm possessively.
The night hag flexed her clawed hands and spat. 'I'm sick of your pretensions, you bitchy old beanpole! it's time for you and I to get a few things straight!' At that, Auntie Scroddy grabbed Pinkus's other arm and yanked him toward her with surprising strength.
'Don't let that floozy push you around, Ugweelal' said one of the green hags to the annis.
'Mind your own business, Brinlugi, you bitch!' the other green hag said, taking up the cause of the night hag.
Gord took the opportunity to dash over to where Chert was stumbling around in the dark, trying unsuccessfully to do something useful — such as groping one of the serving wenches he imagined to be temptingly nearby. Gord took hold of him and shouted, 'Follow me quickly! This place is a den of hags and witches!' Chert obeyed meekly, and the young thief led him through the mess of overturned tables and chairs, benches and milling bodies. The pair had almost made it to the exit when their progress was stopped.
'Not so fast, boys,' a cracked, scratchy voice ordered. 'If you take one more step toward the door I’ll turn you both into frogbeasts!' The speaker was a witch, human in form but ugly nonetheless.
'What's a frogbeast?' Chert asked.
'A thing created by the wizard Denimarkz,', the crone supplied helpfully.
'Huh?' the barbarian said.
'Shut up and let's go,' Gord urged.
'You're asking for it!' screeched the black-clad witch.
With that, Chert lowered his head and moved. Gord held him back. The crone was standing inside the doorway making threatening passes with her hands and squinting balefully at both young men. 'Give it up, Chert,' his friend advised. 'It looks like we're trapped.'
'That's more like it' the witch said with a smile that displayed her lone tooth. 'Now turn around, and we'll go to someplace private where we can have a little chat. Just as the two of them turned, the altercation between Auntie Scroddy and Ugweela escalated. They were no longer screaming insults at one another; the two were suddenly mixing it up like a pair of furious alley cats. This was enough to bring the two green hags to blows as well. As all of them fell into a scratching, clawing, biting tangle, the witch's attention was distracted just long enough to allow Gord to perform a back-flip. He landed beside the startled witch, his weapons out in an instant.
'Now it's your turn, darling!' he cried, with his sword across her throat and his dagger pressed to her side. 'One move, and you're dead meat!' in fact, she smelled pretty much like she was dead already, but Gord tried to ignore the odor.
'Don't be hasty now, my boy!' the crone said, mustering as much sweetness as she could. 'I'm sure you and I can reach an arrangement …'
'Cancel the darkness — and be quick,' Gord ordered harshly, 'or I’ll slice your throat and skewer your shriveled liverl'
'How can I do that?' the witch asked with real concern in her tone. 'If I make any motions you'll kill me, but I have to move to dispel the magic!'
'Go ahead,' Gord said with suspicion, 'but one false move and I’ll wet my blades with your black blood!'
In a moment the deed was done, and the room was again brightly illuminated by lamps and flre-light. As the magically induced blackness was lifted, the hags ceased their brawling and sprang to their feet, scratched and disheveled. Amid a flood of vile comments directed at each other, all four of the former combatants demanded to know what was going on. Meanwhile, seeing things as they actually were, most of the patrons of the tavern screamed and fled, faces ashen, legs rubbery. Only Zimp and a trio of the staunchest outlaws remained, hands on weapons, hovering near the way out, torn between duty to their masters and a desire to run in panic from the horrors they saw.
'Now see what you’ve done!' the ancient crone cried. The whole night is ruined, totally ruined.' the witch
