A Tunnels and Trolls® play-by-post adventure run by khara_khang
Shipy reads the excerpt:
"And Rahnian defeated the dark legions of under water elves,
defeated them with the blade of her own craft.
The sword was formed of the purest adamant, and shone like the rising sun,
for the people who would own it in the end."
"Bingo," mutters Shipy, self-proclaimed "treasure-hunter extraordinaire." He brushes the remaining dust off the archaic Elven text. The pages have long since yellowed and crinkled and the ink has been flaking off at an alarming rate, but the Old Parusan script is still legible. He replaces the musty codex back on the shelf of the Khazan library out of order, just out of laziness, if anything.
"That's it... after all, what else could the poem be about?" Shipy is fairly certain of the accuracy of this translation. He is after all, one of the greatest (in his Hobbit opinion) treasure-hunters of all time, and among one of the best scholars of language that Eryia has known in recent days (again in his mind). He gave a copy of a similar translation to Jay, but the paper he gave the Wizard was magical and likely held more than just the same translation. He wonders what, if anything, Jay uncovered.
Shipy turns and walks out of the room without so much as another thought. The room resides at the top of one of the towers of the Castle Zaxhere, in the City of Khazan, the capital of the most powerful kingdom in all the Dragon Continent. The city is so vast and sprawling that almost a million people of dozens of races call it their home. A large portion of the city is yet veiled by distance even this high atop Castle Zaxhere.
"I suppose that I had better get back to the Blue Frog Tavern and tell Jax," he muses at last, rushing quickly down the spiral stairs as only a Hobbit can. Shipy has important matters to attend to, like readying a group for the latest sea voyage adventure in search of the famed Pirate Blade of Rahnian.
It is later that afternoon when Shipy arrives at the Blue Frog. As he walks into the tavern, his bare feet stir up the sawdust floor. He climbs up onto the barstool with his name carved into it and gives Lucky, the one-eyed one-armed, one-legged bartender, a curious glance.
"Any new tattoos, Lucky?"
"Ho! I thought you were dead! Funny you should ask, little man. This morning I woke up with this one." He lifts his sleeve to reveal a naked mermaid.
"Nope, I'm still alive. Ooooh, cooool! I want one!"
"Not 'til you're passed out, my little friend."
Shipy shoots the bartender a forlorn look as Lucky sits a mug of grog in front of him. It is a mirky dark swill that passes for ale, and a favorite of Khazan.
"Any naked table dancing today, Lucky?" he says, sipping his grog carefully.
"Nooo! And not another word out of you about that, or I'll subject you to the humiliation of making you sing."
He gulps. "Can I pick the song?" he says, raising one eyebrow.
"No!" With that, the bartender wanders off to wait on other people.
Turning on his barstool to anyone who might be listening, Shipy says, "I've seen quite a bit of this world of ours, and if you don't believe me, just you sit and listen! I've been around, over, and even under the surface of this planet and city more times than a Hobbit eats breakfast on a holiday. You still don't believe me, do you? This old Hobbit, this bag of bones is really Shipy the Cunning, treasure-hunter and pirate-chaser and the one person from all the other romantic stories that every bard and his brother are so eager to tell. Yes, I am he, and I see no reason to deny it. I did always love history so much more than warfare, you know. Even when I was young, I preferred my books to my blade. I am leaving tonight on a sea voyage in search of the fabled Pirate Blade of Rahnian. Any treasure-hunter willing to join me will gain an equal share of whatever treasure we might find."
The customers laugh.
"Wait a minute.... Listen to me you lousy bum. When I get a hold of you, you're dead. I swear I'm gonna slice your heart in half!" One customer chases another customer out of the bar and down the street.
Shipy sighs, remembering the days when he used to be chased. He pulls an old crumpled paper from his pocket and reads it to himself:
Dear Shipy,
I am an utter failure, and you'll be better off without me. By the time you read this, I will be in my watery grave. I can only leave you with the words my father gave me: Stand tall as you can, flee when possible, steal or lie whenever necessary, and never give up unless it's hopeless. I only hope I can provide a better model in death than I did in life.
Warmest regards,
Your father,
Shipy Sr.
What do you do?
"Any treasure-hunter willing to join me will gain an equal share of whatever treasure we might find."
The customers laugh. Taran doesn't laugh.
Taran has just awakened from a nap in one of the darker corners of the Blue Frog Tavern. Beforehand, Lucky served him up a tankard of swamp water (sold to the unwitting Orc as "Khazan Ale Special No. Three") and he tried drowning away his sorrows with it. But all that did was give him (swamp) gas and make him drowsy.
Taran has been trying to drown away his sorrows with various concoctions for three weeks, ever since he learned that the marking on his back was actually a Talo Tattoo Worm. It affixed itself to him several months ago. Frak, he doesn't even know how to spell "symbiont," much less say it. Jax said it was a good thing and has probably been enjoying the whole experience, but Taran isn't as easily accepting of it. Being a lizard, then a lizard man, then growing back chopped off fingers, then getting stuck in a time loop which ended in his own death---all of this is no fun to think about, but he survived each experience intact. Now however, he feels compromised, albeit a bit [5 CON] more robust.
Lucky realized after a few days that the poor Orc would drink himself to death, so he started serving him less and less potent stuff. The swamp water is strong in and of itself, but at least it won't destroy any more of his brain cells. Of course, it tears up his stomach, but Orcs are made of sturdy stuff. They can survive on rat soup for three days made with the same rat, but they need all the brain cells they can manage. Or so Lucky reasons.
After Shipy finishes his invitation, Taran gets up and stumbles groggily over to where the Hobbit sits reading something. Taran waits for Shipy to look up, then dishevels the Hobbit's head of hair in greeting.
"Argh, how's it goin', Shippo?" Taran says, yawning and not bothering to cover his mouth, effectively billowing partially digested swamp water fumes in Shipy's face. "You softening up in your old age? Call me crazy, but did you just say 'equal share?'" Taran laughs, apparently thinking he is quite funny. "Sign me up. I need a distraction. Besides, and don't tell him," he says, leaning closer to whisper, "but I think Lucky's been accidentally serving me the good stuff!"
With that, Taran lets out a raucous belch and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. "Let me know when we head out so I can find a sub for my shift at the guard tower," he says in parting, and stumbles back to his table to ponder his existence again. "Lucky, another Special Number Three, please!"
"Belay that order, Lucky!" booms the newcomer as the tortured tavern doors burst open defiantly, then swing back in place with a swish, swish, swish. The Blue Frog's Centaur bouncer lets out a great sigh as the Orc strides in, and she steadies the tavern doors with her oxtongue.
The newcomer is just your basic burly medium-sized Orc, showing a remarkable resemblance to the drunken Orc in the corner, only more handsome (so they say) and far more sober. He makes a beeline to the younger Orc, who doesn't exactly savor the look on the newcomer's face. This is Jax "Blurblade" Dracon, a bar regular, delver-for-hire, connoisseur of sun-dried lizards... and Taran's brother.
"Sheesh, T, that's the last time I cover for you back at the Warren! Oother'll have your hide if you miss another shift. What gives, eh?" Jax turns toward Lucky, about to ask how many drinks Taran has had, then spies an old friend.
"Oh, hiya Shipy! Care to join us for old time's sake?"
Quickly Ratcatcher drops down from the rafters into the dim light to catch a whiff of whatever Taran's been drinking (taking care to stay more or less out of the Orc's, and the Orc's big brother's reaches), and flits to the other side of the Hobbit.
"Lucky, is that really the good stuff? Can I have this much of the bad stuff, then?" He gestures, indicating a standard shotglass, and turns to shipy.
"I'll start now. You're buying, right? Is it a pirate's blade, or is the blade piratical, or is the blade pirated? Is Rahnian a pirate? Ooh, what's that? Is it a map?"
He tries, impertinently, to read over Shipy's shoulder.
Amroth looks at the Fairy and thinks aloud, "This shall truly be an interesting delve."
"Hey Mr. Fairy, my name is Amroth-Esa. I am from the clan of Esa and I shall save the story for a later date. Yet I was wondering if I could help you. See, I figure anyone needing help to look over a Hobbit's shoulder, especially this one's, is in need of help. May I assist you and we shall both find out what this blade trully is about. I really have no use for such a weapon; in fact, I have this gorgeous dagger."
He pulls out a beautiful ornate hilt, but from it extends a dull looking blade, er actually you see no blade, just rust. He then quickly thrusts it into his scabbard. "Yes one of my better works. But I have also designed a great weapon for all Faeries alike. If you ever meet Titiana the Faerie, I'm sure she would be pleased to shoe [sic] it to you."
A few minutes elapse as the bar's volume dips. "HEY SHIPPY [sic] WHEN DO YOU WANNA LEAVE!?"
Amroth will join the adventure! But he wants to buy some items first... and he has no flashy long paragraphs of stuff like Jax though.
Are we gonna stop by a shop first or do I need to do something like that on my own? I want to buy a ring or something to the like that would increase my MYC, KREMM, PWR (what are we calling it anyway!?).
In this adventure, we will play exactly by the Tunnels and Trolls® Rule Book, which says "The attribute of ST provides the power or energy to fire all spells." As for you buying a ring, your items are posted in the Archives. If you buy something new, you will have to buy it during the game. That's the down side of being archived. <grins wickedly>
"This old Hobbit, this bag of bones is really Shipy the Cunning...."
"Bag of bones my a$$. You want some hidden treasure, Shippo? I've got all anyone here needs right in my underpants...."
A collective sigh goes up through the room as respectable ladies hurry to get their booty safely under the lock and key of a chastity belt. Jack's last visit to the BFT left some residual rumours as to his "preference" and he is determined put this clap trap to rest. When in doubt, over-compensate. Hey, but who's in doubt here? What are you lookin' at? He pulls out a bottle of "Hi-Karate" and sprinkles, dabs and swivels his way to the bar.
"So how are all the little people anyway?"
"But I have also designed a great weapon for all Faeries alike. If you ever meet Titiana the Faerie, I'm sure she would be pleased to shoe [sic] it to you."
Quickly pulls a doubletake. "Shoe it? A hobby horse? A Fairy wings it, friend! I need no mount!"
He zips up to Amroth's eye-level and grins. "Well met, Amroth, but that sort of help I don't need... I can see fine from up here. The years lie heavy on your blade... when did you make it? I guess you're older than you look. You can name me Quickly, or Ratcatcher if you like. Are you buying?"
A shadowy figure rises from a table by the wall and approaches the Hobbit. "I'm looking for excitement; this sounds mildly interesting. How many bars have you announced this quest to, or are we the only chosen ones to have a share in this mysterious and perhaps nonexistent wealth?" Ebony asks with a mischievous smile, in an almost musical and sultry voice. "I'd hate to have others following us only to try to steal our spoils at a later date."
Khara Khang, what did you think of my idea of playing a healing specialist? I can play Olvarin as a regular Wizard if you prefer.
In the front of the Blue Frog Tavern, with it's musty air thick with pipe weed and the stench of many unwashed bodies pressed close together, there is a short scrawny looking Elf. He is Olvarin, a wandering Elvish healer, but what really matters is that at the moment he is awkwardly trying to make small talk with the buxom Centaur filly who serves as bouncer.
"Er...so, do you live around here?" he stammers while blushing bright red.
"Of course I do. I work here, don't I?" the Centaur replies off-handedly. She tries to decide whether standing around doing nothing but watching the crowd is more or less boring with the Elf youth under hoof babbling like a child. She decides it is the former.
"...."
"Oh listen to that!" she says theatrically, cupping her hand to her ear. "Shipy the Hobb is recruiting brave adventurers to seek a legendary treasure! Hmm, boy, a girl could really go for one of those brave, daring, and wealthy adventuring types, I tell you." Sighing for emphasis she shrugs her shoulders.
"Really...? Well maybe I should...."
Olvarin's speech is cut off as the doors fly open with a bang, knocking him to the floor. A bit stunned, he lies there twitching and doesn't see the burly Orc Warrior who obliviously found some comrades and began drinking.
After a few moments of watching the Elf writhing on the ground, the Centaur turns an abandoned drink over his head. Groggily, he asks, "What happened?"
"Oh, you just swore a sacred vow to accompany Shipy, laying down your life as need be, to recover a marvelous sword. Better hurry, he might leave soon."
"Right... see you later?"
"Not if I see you first," she laughs, not terribly unkindly.
Dejected, Olvarin gets his bearings, then makes his way to the crowded table where Shipy is interviewing prospective companions and talking with old friends. "Master Shipy, my name is Olvarin. I am a healer of sorts. If it pleases you, I shall accompany you on your grand quest. Will you have me?"
If there's still room, I'm in with Jay, okay?
As for you buying a ring, your items are posted in the Archives.
Hooray! Spy on your friends!
If you buy something new, you will have to buy it during the game. That's the down side of being archived. <grins wickedly>
(Don't worry folks---he talks tough, but I hear he's a real softie!)
[Shipy] gave a copy of a similar translation to Jay, but the paper he gave the Wizard was magical and likely held more than just the same translation.
Huh, go figure.
... rushing quickly down the spiral stairs as only a Hobbit can.
Tripped and tumbling, eh?
Shipy has important matters to attend to, like readying a group for the latest sea voyage adventure in search of the famed Pirate Blade of Rahnian.
Never heard of the famed blade before the Hobbit stuck the paper in my hand.
Dear Shipy,
I am an utter failure, and you'll be better off without me.... Your father,
Shipy Sr.
Why does this remind me of Popeye and Pappy the Sailor Men?
What do you do?
The same thing I said I was going to do at the end of the last adventure: give the paper back to Shipppy [sic] with the most accurate translation that I was able to come up with. If Jay was able to discern the magic and/or anything else about it, he'd have Omni-Eyed it and will tell that info to the Hobbit as well.
Amroth will join the adventure! But he wants to buy some items first... and he has no flashy long paragraphs of stuff like Jax though.
Orcs are more eloquent than they look, I've come to discover.
Taran waits for Shipy to look up, then dishevels the Hobbit's head of hair in greeting.
Taran: Knock knock.
Shipppy [sic]: Who's there?
Taran: Coma.
Shipppy [sic]: Coma who?
Taran: Coma you hair! You look-a like-a slob!
(It's amazing what you will remember from Mad and Cracked magazines after 20 years....)
He tries, impertinently, to read over Shipy's shoulder.
He probably fails. It's very difficult to be impertinent to a Hobbit.
"Hey Mr. Fairy, my name is Amroth-Esa. I am from the clan of Esa and I shall save the story for a later date."
A mighty cheer is heard throughout the tavern.
A few minutes elapse as the bar's volume dips.
See, and you thought I was making up the cheering.
Are we gonna stop by a shop first or do I need to do something like that on my own? I want to buy a ring or something to the like that would increase my MYC, KREMM, PWR....
Are there such places in this game? Jay might need to go pick something up for his second date... hot Chihuahua! Then again, maybe not.
...(what are we calling it [MYC, KREMM, PWR] anyway!?).
A silly idea.
"Bag of bones my a$$. You want some hidden treasure, Shippo? I've got all anyone here needs right in my underpants...."
Fact is, I really never know what to say after this guy posts....
A shadowy figure rises from a table by the wall and approaches the Hobbit. "I'm looking for excitement...."
Could there have been anything more wrong to say to that little pervert?
"Master Shipy, my name is Olvarin.... If it pleases you, I shall accompany you on your grand quest. Will you have me?"
Well, maybe this.
"Shoe it? A hobby horse? A Fairy wings it, friend! I need no mount!"
"Sometimes I get a bit restless and talk a bit too fast! I meant 'show'! And you knew it, didn't you! I'll mount you and your Faerie wings to the wall, mind you!!"
I know Split is going to want to play using Kahi; unless he takes my suggestion to use Galdor. But his response to that was, "Um, well I think everyone is still mad at me for running off with a lot of the treasure."
Another thing, Khara, couldn't I go over to Brienna's store?
"Oh, 'show'? Then surely, show it!"
I am out of town and across the country on the west coast at this moment, but when I return later in the week, our adventure will continue. No, I haven't forgotten any of you (or the new people), and yes, the game will continue when I return.
I know Split is going to want to play using Kahi; unless he takes my suggestion to use Galdor. But his response to that was, "Um, well I think everyone is still mad at me for running off with a lot of the treasure."
He did? <shrug> Oh well.
I am out of town....
We all miss you.
ROFLMAO! Weird_ollie01, you slay me dude! You have Chereva (the BFT's Centaur bouncer) pegged! You sure you haven't read the "Goblin Lake, Part Deux" Archives? Wow. I'm impressed. Nice post.
Another thing, Khara, couldn't I go over to Brienna's store?
I'm sure Brienna would love to see a former fellow delver at her store, especially one of your reputation and caliber, Amroth. ;) You might just get one of her trademark impassive remarks, if not a discount!
"You can name me Quickly, or Ratcatcher if you like. Are you buying?"
"I suppose I could... but afterward, I would like you to teach me all the spells you know after the fifth level. Oh yeah, I could be your personal bodyguard for a while too, I suppose, if you would like."
"Oh, 'show'? Then surely, show it!"
"Well, I don't have the actual weapon, as I said you would need another Fairy to see the finished product."
We all miss you.
I don't think sucking up is going to encourage him from changing Jay's picture on the webpage, but while your at it: PLEASE COME BACK KHARA! I DON'T WANT YOU TO GO!! You're the best GM ever! A faithful friend, and we can't live without your... GM-iness.
"...afterward, I would like you to teach me all the spells you know after the fifth level."
"I'll teach you every spell I know this instant.... Done! Faeries may all be magic, but we don't all magick. I thought Elves knew everything."
Quickly drops the last few inches to the bar with a flick of his wings, plants his feet and puts his fists on his hips, arms akimbo. With the stiletto slung between his wings like a greatsword, he's every inch the Warrior... all seven of them.
"But since there's no Titiana here that I know or see, maybe you can tell me about the weapon while we drink."
I'm sure Brienna would love to see a former fellow delver at her store, especially one of your reputation and caliber, Amroth. ;) You might just get one of her trademark impassive remarks, if not a discount!
Those were trademarked remarks? Guess that's going to ruin my next comment....
I don't think sucking up is going to encourage him...
It wasn't sucking up. Read the same sentence aloud, but do it impassively.
...from changing Jay's picture on the webpage....
We've already come to a compromise on that.
PLEASE COME BACK KHARA! I DON'T WANT YOU TO GO!! You're the best GM ever! A faithful friend, and we can't live without your... GM-iness.
Now that, on the other hand, is the kind of comment, which after uttered, you need to wipe your nose off.
"I'll teach you every spell I know this instant.... Done! Faeries may all be magic, but we don't all magick. I thought Elves knew everything."
Serves Amroth right, after he refused to teach Jay any spells at the end of the last adventure, and Jay offered to pay for them:
"Is anyone here willing to sell a spell very cheaply?"
Huh. Well I'm sure if you ask Amroth again, he'll be happy to, even after he ignored Jay a while back. I don't even remember Jay asking, actually. And I thought all Faeries had to be Wizards? Doesn't it say something about that in the rule book? Oh well, khara already accepted him and he was archived (I assume).
Well I'm sure if you ask Amroth again, he'll be happy to....
Too late. Jay's investing it in a parking lot scheme someone clued him in on [a reference to an eickeric's character Glarghj'naslk'ncdl'n in Goblin Lake, Part Deux, who after the adventure left to "turn Khazan into rubble with my mighty winged Toad army, then pave over it all with asphalt." --ed.].
I don't even remember Jay asking, actually.
It's probably because Jay is such a quiet unassuming individual.
And I thought all Faeries had to be Wizards?
No. We've had several wizardly Fairies in the club, but it's not a requirement.
Doesn't it say something about that in the rule book?
You're thinking of Leprechauns: that's the race that the system says is entirely composed of Wizards.
"What, do I look like a Leprechaun?"
"So Ratcatcher, ever heard of the story about the Flaming Flagulant Foul of Death? Well, you don't want to, so don't ask. Well, this weapon I made is heavily enchanted, yes heavily. But it's only for Wizards. Well I guess you could use it, but I don't know why you would need it. You aren't a Wizard, unless there is something you're keeping from us. Are you a schitzo!?"
Now I will muddle through all the posts and bring this odd group together, if such a thing is possible, and then post, post-haste... hehehe! Get it, post-haste? Ah well.
"I...I, I can't be here. I'm sorry but I must leave. There have been problems in my clan and I must leave. I'm sorry my friends, hopefully I shall meet you all again. To replace myself, I'll send you an old friend. Remember that looks can be decieving, and anything that gives you mean looks with a really big sword means it's gonna kill you. With those word of wisdom I shall leave you." With that, Amroth-Esa walks out of the tavern, not stopping to hear comments, or even the nonexistent pleas to stay.
Soon, a huge burly man walks into the tavern. He is all covered with various shawls and the like and there is a musty smell of old dried grass and manure about him, or her for all you know.
"I have been sent by Amroth-Esa for the assistance of the Hobbit named Shibby? Or was it Shinny? I am sorry, great adventurers, I come in peace, and I am seeking the Hobbit Shippy [sic], and his fellow friends, of whom I inquire how I may become a part. I have this paper here from Amroth, from him, here see, it says---Whoa!" He drops the paper.
"Oh sorry, do let me get that," he says. Bending over to grab the paper, the innumerable numer of shawls and cloaks fall off his body, revealing a single Leprechaun on stilts.
"Oh! Well hopefully you'll accept me into your party. Sorry for trying to deceive you at first.... I figured if I looked big, you wouldn't hurt me if you didn't accept me. So will you?"
A 2' tall Leprechaun with a 3.5' tall, 2" thick staff with a large club-like bulge at the top waddles into the tavern, looks around and takes a swig from his flask. He stumbles around, shooting psychotic glares at people and hobbles up to the bar.
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