A Tunnels and Trolls® play-by-post adventure run by khara_khang
"I'm so bad, I make medicine sick!"
I'm hotter than a salamander's pitchfork!
Between the points of entrance and exit, passage through the portal causes a dazzling kaleidoscope-like effect that confuses and overwhelms the senses.
Neat. There's probably a market for that.
[Martek] looks at you as he bends over, breathing very heavily.
Pervert.
"Hi people, 'bout frakkin' time you got here!"
What do you do?
I scan the area to see if Shipppy [sic] is anywhere around and wait to see if the Orc brothers show any sign of recognizing Martek.
Nervous, she begins suspecting that this is all a very elaborately planned hoax to get them all (or at least the ones that the planner wants dead) into one place.
It'd have been faster to Hellbomb Burst the BFT.
Out of nowhere, a familiar Elf is teleported above the party. Luckily it is right above Jay, so Amroth has plenty of pad on which to fall.
"Ouch."
"Well, if it isn't the ever-resilant Orc brothers, saving Khazan one frak at a time."
Now that's something that needs to go on a T-shirt.
With this, Amroth points to a direction and starts walking, humming the tune.
"Who was that odd person?"
"Frak! Martek? Amroth? Who's next, Lilac and her Rhino?"
"Huh, I ran into some guy named Trip El'em [eickeric Michael of the Midnight Magics, aka Triple M, from Goblins in the Mist --ed.] who claims it's his rhino. No matter."
"If, as Amroth implies, Lerotra'hh's Master Wizard Grutoss is indeed in on this, then I suggest we defer any explanations for later."
"Because he's trustworthy, or because he's untrustworthy? And who's Amroth?"
"I will personally vouch for Martek's integrity. I'm sure he will 'page us' when there is time to spare."
That's all I needed to hear. I'll follow as well.
Quickly sets his teeth, improvises a bandage out of his clothes to deal with the gaping rent in his chest and follows Jax.
"I would suggest in the future you speak up if in need of aid. No doubt the aid will be more prompt."
Even in the darkness of the exotic oppressively humid jungle, there is enough light radiating from Jack's hooded lantern to see the haunting features of each person as they stand together, some in disbelief at the chance encounter, others in dazed wonderment of who is who and how the hell they came to know each other in the first place.
And possibly even a dispassionate face or two.
"Fear accompanies the possibility of death. Calm shepherds its certainty."
Jay has a short conversation to/with himself:
"Well, he won't see me beg."
"Chivalric fool. As if the way one fell mattered."
"When the fall is all there is, it matters."
"Let's go make the people from the Building Of Magical Urban Development proud while someone is still vouching for us."
"Building of Magical Urban Development? Aren't those the toads with the asphalt?" [This is a reference to Glarghj'naslk'ncdl'n, reputed to have paved over Khazan in Goblin Lake, Part Deux --ed.]
Amroth and Martek confer in a few hushed whispers and then both head off into the jungle leading the group.
What do you do?
I follow Martek and that other guy.
This loss [Ca'junn the Blackened Sword adventure] was one of the catalysts that inspired the creation of the Archives.
So there was actually something positive that came out of that mess.
Yeah, that sarcastic tone is something that is hard master in type, although sitting around at the BFT long enough, one learns that most people are being sarcastic.
Sarcasm is overrated.
Note also that for every point of damage that exceeds your armor, your armor takes that in actual damage itself.
I wish I knew you were doing this before the adventure....
Ebony was getting frustrated, but her sense of calm and her training soon take over. Her grandmother's plan was for her adrenaline to trigger tne response, rather than a conscious effort.
She looks to the Orc brothers to see if they will take Martek's lead. After all, they seem to know him from some time before, so they would be a better judge of him than she. Also, her gut instincts tell her that Martek isn't out to get them.
Ebony will follow the Orc brothers, should they follow Martek and Amroth.
"I would suggest in the future you speak up if in need of aid. No doubt the aid will be more prompt."
Quickly nods in assent to Jay's admonition, swallows, and follows the Orc brothers about 10' off the ground, visually scanning the party's flanks and airspace for threats with his bow drawn.
Jax sheathes his vorpal blade and follows Martek into the jungle.
Olvarin goes "tharn" for a moment. All these newcomers, teleportations, and undead are much too much for him. He shakes his head, knowing that it will be hours before he will figure out what is what.
But they don't have hours. Only slim minutes fleetingly passing by. Rather than holding up the already-moving party, Olvarin takes his place at the rear of the party and trudges on as bravely as he can.
He only hopes that he will understand what is happening before he dies....
Taran dusts himself off. He loads a couple of crossbow bolts into his over-and-under, secures his broadsword in its sheath on his back, and follows the group led by Martek.
"Why ya worryin', Moe---er Taran. Yer not naked now?"
"Ugh," he replies, sneering at Martek.
While the memory of his imprisonment brings back memories [cf. Lizardmen in Red Water Bay --ed.] both unpleasant (being chained, being beaten, falling out of the sky) and pleasant (being chained along side two naked females), he doesn't like Martek poking fun at him. He doesn't want anyone thinking about his toned, green backside, even if he is the handsome Dracon brother. He just doesn't want to be the cause for daydreaming during an important mission.
Taran glances behind him to make sure everyone is following suit, and as the adventurers trudge on, he takes up a position at the end of the bunch, where he feels comfortable in his sniper role.
"Well, look, I don't imagine that this will come as a big surprise or anything, but I don't get it.... Where's Shipy? Why are you here anyway, Martek?"
Jack follows along with the rest.
The party's fast trek through the jungle begins as an effort in haste to retrieve Shipy from the evil clutches of the Mummy, but the oppressive heat soon slows the quickened pace to an unhurried steady march as the group's energy begins to ebb with the passage of hours. The jungle undergrowth is thick and bothersome, making travel sluggish. The darkness and the thick foliage within the jungle keep any light sources from revealing much more than the immediate area around the party.
Quickly's reconnaissance effort is futile: he can see very little. The wall of darkness and the odd squawks from birds and screeching monkeys from above fill the jungle with noises of its own creation, some real, some imagined.
Olvarin takes his place at the rear of the party with Taran. As the hours pass, so do their thoughts of this jungle trek ending quickly. Sweat beads on Olvarin's face and he is forced to wipe it away constantly; the humid jungle feels like an oven, and the biting bugs hover around him when he pauses as if it were a Sunday feast.
Megol's torch eventually sputters and goes out, its life ending after several hours have passed. The other group members seem to grumble from time to time, but they keep moving forward.
Two cold undead minions lean against trees separated a dozen feet from each other. Both are all but invisible to those who pass by unaware. One reaches out its clawed arm and snatches Olvarin from the group as he walks past. It holds its bandaged hand over the mouth of the struggling Wizard. The other minion does the same to Taran. It all happens in an eyeblink, and the party continues on unaware, out of sight. Olvarin, Taran and the two undead minions disappear, reappearing in a large debris-scattered room with a single torch as its only light source.
[The kidnappers must have used a portal, but only when Jax was 100' away, for his tattoo didn't glow. Taran's lack of gloves enabled him to escape the DEX hit from his own tattoo reacting to the portal. --ed.]
[The party has split:
The huge room is larger than the light from the torch can reveal. Within the light in front of a great set of double doors stand the Mummy King, Shipy, and five other minions, not counting the newly arrived minions holding the struggling Olvarin and Taran. The other minions swiftly fall upon Olvarin and Taran like a pack of wolves, holding them down, stripping them naked and placing them in chains which lock around their necks, wrists and ankles. Shipy is similarly chained. All three prisoners are then chained to together as one would slaves. Shipy's, Olvarin's and Taran's items are left on the floor where they were stripped. The three are lead closer to the double doors.
Martek keeps walking on a set path in his head, stopping only to hack through the sporadic vine and at the same time trying to answer Jack's questions.
"... I don't get it.... Where's Shipy? Why are you here anyway, Martek?"
"I don't know where Shipy is. Somewhere close, I expect. Oh, all right, maybe I can pinpoint where my life went wrong for you, Jack. Let me explain it this way. I'm the reverse King Arthur. I'm the one who can put the sword into the stone! I'm... er, I mean we're here for the Mummy."
Quickly is the first to raise the alarm that Taran and Olvarin are missing. A search of the surrounding jungle finds nothing. Shouts into the jungle bring no response from them. It is as if they just disappeared into thin air.
Showing his frustration, Martek shouts, "C'mon you old bastard, show your ugly face. Haven't you read the super villain's handbook? This is where you're supposed to twirl your mustache and gloat."
This stalls the group for a while as they search in vain, but after realizing the futility they continue. Twenty minutes later, the jungle parts in front of them. They are only able to stare at the grand scene dimly lit by moonlight in the distance. The temple must stand several hundreds of feet high or more, cloaked by dark ominous clouds. The structure itself shows no sign of blocks or seams, like a great monolith that has been hewn from a whole mountain, or just conjured in place by some ancient magick. Thirty-foot high walls of sheer rock circle the temple with one visible entrance. The top of the temple is far too high to glimpse from the ground.
Meanwhile, inside the temple....
"Hi Taran... big O. We're somewhat 'inconveniently' tethered, it seems. Almost like old times, isn't it? Being naked and in chains...."
"Inconvenient, my mivonks...."
What do you do?
Can I get a countdown in later posts so I know when I am recovering STR points?
They have all returned as of this post.
Losing his temper, he shouts, "Oh! Curses blight and devour this noisome place! That temple? If they're going to make something that big, why put it off in a festering jungle? It's so everloving botherly inconvenient!" He throws a right hook at the nearest insect, quivering with rage and frustration.
"I can't even see a window in the bloody thing, can you? Should I go up and look? That's assuming I can get back before another two or three of you big folk wander off into this reeking pestilent buzzing squawking oversized overblown overheated...." he pauses to catch his breath.
"Olvarin! Taran! Dammit all!" He swings at another bug.
"Quickly, my dear Fairy," she says, her voice soothing and quiet, "You might want to be careful not to antagonize the insects. One of them might have a big brother larger than you." She smiles mischievously, trying to lighten the mood. "And besides, I'm sure the two missing will be found when we find the Hobbit."
One reaches out its clawed arm and snatches Olvarin from the group as he walks past.... The other minion does the same to Taran.
Guess we missed our SRs to to detect that.
What do you do?
I keep on humming
He throws a right hook at the nearest insect, quivering with rage and frustration.
I thought he had his bow drawn?
Quickly, fuming no less but quietly, retrieves his bow and the arrow (which he doubtless dropped in his tantrum).
Jack addresses Martek. "Well hardy-har-har, sweet cheeks. Thanks a whole bunch for showing up and saving the day! Look Martek, I don't know exactly where you were comin' from or what particular ace you figure you have up your sleeve, but we are completely, 100% sussed out by these necrophiles, and we're gettin' picked off like fish in a barrel. I hope you've got a slightly better plan for this B&E.
"Hey... I'm a little on the necrophilic side myself. Don't think there's any chance of my sneakin' in as one of the in-crowd do you? Yeah that's it... sneak in, glad hand a little with the walkin' stiffs and then Whammo! Dagger of Time all over their candy #$@%s!"
Quickly blinks, almost blinded by the glimmer of hope that Jack just lit up, though it fades rapidly. "Fire fought with fire! Fathom that! But Sir Bones, if your skull holds such wondrous thoughts, might not the other walking dead yonder have enough in their noggins to see through the ploy? The dead have hands, and just as much, they might have secret handshakes."
"Inconvenient, my mivonks...."
Mivonks? Is that Orcish for cahoonies?
Taran grimaces, baring his tusks. Might as well; he's baring everything else, and much to his displeasure it is alongside a naked Hobbit and a naked Elf. There's not a female in sight to appreciate his exquisitely sculpted Orc frame. No matter; apparently it is time for business. Taran studies the door, wondering what or who might be about to walk through it. If he can somehow get a hold of his sword, or crossbow....
"Who am I kidding?" he thinks. He is no match for this horde. If they are going to get out of this predicament, it will be through brains, and not brawn. Unfortunately, he has not a single bright idea coming to him. "Maybe Olvarin has a trick up his sleeve," the Orc thinks, then noticing again Olvarin's state of undress, he quickly retracts the thought.
In a moment of insane tactics, Taran believes that with his weight relative to the Hobbit and the Elf, he might swing them like a flail as a makeshift weapon. The thought makes him smile, and he cannot help the chuckle that escapes his lips.
Laughing is better than peeing on himself in fear. Not that he is scared. But he is tired of being chained in the buff and that door is giving him the creeps.
Olvarin blinks. The ambush was so sudden that the dire circumstances are only just starting to sink in. The situation is so perfectly awful, that it seems kind of funny, rather than scary.
The Elf considers briefly experimenting with a Knock Knock spell to see if it can open locked chains. But shortly he comes to the same conclusion about attempting an escape as Taran has. After all, they have been captured easily by two of the undead. And now they are in a room with more than half a dozen of them.
Sighing, Olvarin addresses the Mummy. "Excuse me..." he says politely. "It really isn't necessary to submit us to these indignities. I am a healer, and couldn't do you any harm even if I wanted to. And your minions are much more powerful than we are."
Putting his best foot forward, Olvarin smiles wanly. "If you have need of our services, you will find me much more useful clothed and equipped. I am most interested in what use you desire to put us to. Won't you share it with us?" The Elf does a little half-bow out of respect for the undead. He is also doing his best to keep his back turned to his companions. He doesn't want to see them, and he doesn't want to be seen in their common nakedness.
"But Sir Bones, if your skull holds such wondrous thoughts, might not the other walking dead yonder have enough in their noggins to see through the ploy?"
"Hey, hey, don't worry about me pipsqueak, I'm a professional actor. Pro-fessional, see? Watch this: I'll put on a disguise and fake the accent and not even my mother would recognize me." He picks a clump of moss off a tree and holds it under his nose.
"Uhhh.... One of us! One of us! Eat brains! Must eat more brains!!"
In spite of himself, Quickly laughs. "But forsooth, Mr. Bones, what of the rest of us? I think that I at least cannot match your skill in playing dead. And think you, have we not already been seen?" He frowns. "And I think, maybe, we should stay together. We've been unlucky in splitting up."
Jax whirls around at Quickly's alarm after feeling a sudden foreboding worry for his brother's safety. "Frak it. Not again," he spits when it becomes apparent that Taran---and Olvarin---have simply vanished.
Later, when the group debates its next course of action, he listens attentively. "If, Jack, you're willing to try to infiltrate the minions' ranks, I say go for it. But let's get a closer look before we make any decisions to split the party," he nods up at Quickly. "We're already hemorrhaging delvers as it is."
Jax turns to Martek, their de facto guide in Shipy's absence. "Martek, Shipy said there are guardians here, and as much as I would like to barge in, I want to see what we are up against first."
"But forsooth, Mr. Bones, what of the rest of us? I think that I at least cannot match your skill in playing dead."
Amroth stops humming briefly. "You are mistaken my friend, I have been dead before, and I could give such a performance it'd knock the socks off those undead dulls! No offence, mind you Jack. You just stick your arms out like this," he says, putting his arms up parallel to the ground, "and then you walk like you have something stuck up yer arse. Then---presto impresso---instant zombie! well you have to dirty your face...."
Another smile cracks across Quickly's face. "Well then, a seedling plot sprouts readily here!" What say you: the lot of us scout out the entrances together, then Jack and Amroth pretend to be minions taking the rest of us prisoner and march us in right under their noses! But wait, that's hard for even a Fairy to believe. There's too many of us, even if I hide in somebody's pocket. Hmmm."
He strikes a thinking pose.
"Glad we're all on the same page, even if it does involve some pointy-thing-in-arse sticking, like Amroth said. Still, I think Jax-o's got a point. He's not usually so well known for his computations per minute, but he's right this time. We gotta take this slow and methodical. The baddies have got our number so far and we could after all be walking right into a trap.
"Jax, get that invisibility thing going again, have a poke around first while me and these lovely ladies and germs work on our prisoners in chains routine."
Quickly, eager for positive action, pipes up, "I'm not invisible, but I'm small and can get a bird's eye view; Jax, shall I scout with you? There's no way in the green wide world that I'll pass for one of those... things. If it comes to it, I'll hide in someone's pocket."
I think you can go invisible, Quickly. Khara, isn't there some Fairy invisibility rule?
Of course you're right, throst54! Good catch! I nominate you Deputy Archivist of the Day. I totally forgot that in khara_khang's world, Fairies can turn invisible at will and also see invisible creatures by virtue of their magical nature. So actually, Quickly is the perfect scouting companion for Jax, since when both are cloaked, they can still see each other.
Jax realizes that his intention to keep the party intact has more or less fallen flat, and as such, his conservative logic begins to waver. Jack's suggestion to scout the entrance tugs at him, while his anxiety over Taran pulls visciously at his feet as if he were standing on the event horizon of a black hole, even if he doesn't know one from his mother's bullfrog bisque.
The Jax of not-too-long-ago might have jumped headlong into the temple and rousted out its guardians and kidnappers with reckless abandon, or at least ventured off alone to scout it out. But since then, he's learned a few lessons in restraint [cf. Goblins in the Mist --ed.] and in placing too much trust in invisibility [cf. Lizardmen in Red Water Bay --ed.].
Screw the lessons.
"Quickly, you're with me. Martek, we'll meet you back here shortly after scouting the entrance."
[The party has split again:
As Jax moves off, he flips up the hood of his InvisiCloak™. "Quickly," he speaks into the night. The Fairy buzzes in front of his face. "Good. Stay invisible so you can see me. [Jax assumes that Fairies can only see invisible if they are themselves invisible. He is wrong. --ed.] If there's trouble, fly back to the group with what you know. I'll follow if I can."
Quickly buzzes up a bit, and Jax adds, "And Quickly... go sparingly on the heroics, eh?" He smiles a tusky grin.
Quickly is astounded.
<gasp> "Begging your pardon---" He holds his breath, <POP> and turns invisible. "Begging your pardon, Jax but Orcs aren't supposed to know that about Fairies. And if there's any trouble, that means they can see you and probably see me too... and I'll try to make a break for it, but I'm not inclined to lose track of another comrade thank you very much. If we get in trouble, we'll get out of it." He flies off, then stops. "It's this way, right?"
"Begging your pardon, Jax but Orcs aren't supposed to know that about Fairies."
"Really?" he says, pausing. "Lilac didn't mention that." It has been some years since Lilac the Fairy helped him confront an ambush of their adventuring party after their emergence from the goblin-infested sewers beneath Khazan [cf. Goblins in the Mist --ed.]. They were both invisible, and yet they could see each other clearly; it seemed natural enough at the time.
"...I'm not inclined to lose track of another comrade thank you very much. If we get in trouble, we'll get out of it."
Jax steps into the clearing. "That's the spirit, Quickly!" He notes the Fairy's speedy assertion, even defense of his moxie. Whatever happened back on the ship, whatever dealt Quickly such a serious wound (now healed) must have shaken up the little dude terribly.
"It's this way, right?"
"Yah." They head toward the imposing entrance to the temple.
"Lilac didn't mention that."
"Ancient Fairy Secret. But I guess there's Fairies and then there's Fairies. Just keep it on the hush. If they hear you've got an invisible Fairy then everyone will want one." He keeps his voice low. "I worry a little: when my prey's bigger than a breadbox, the bow's my gambit, but these are the dead, and I think that my darts will make them sleep no more than they already do."
He slings his bow, and draws his blade: it's a stiletto to the Orc, but a greatsword for the Fairy, who hefts the little blade before him with a two-handed grip as he flies along.
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