A Tunnels and Trolls® play-by-post adventure run by khara_khang
Shipy thinks his position is little more than that of a recruiter, so he really has no incentive to mind the unfolding drama. But he is awed by the tall Elf. He cannot help it. She leaves a lasting impression on him with her offered blood oath, with her eyes as big as a lemur's peering candidly from a streamlined face of Elfin beauty.
Shipy has never worked directly on a job with the Wizard Khara Khang before. Usually he has dealt with Khang's sub-wizards, such as Grutoss or his underling Cobalt, both from the City of Khazan Adventuring Service, Section 13, found in the City Building Of Magical Urban Development in room 131. Backing away from the Wizard, the Hobbit sits down in one of the overstuffed chairs. Shipy grins. Why am I not warmly cushioned somewhere tonight, well drunk and sweetly embraced? Then Jax up and tumbles to the floor. Shipy can't help but go over and offer a hand to his meaty Orcish friend.
Khara Khang unrolls a previously hidden parchment with a snap, and shifts his gaze from his audience to the scroll's contents. As if by magic, the last trace of night-smog, sorcery-smoke, wizard-wisps---whatever the hell it is---it just vanishes, as if alerted to an imminent event of great import.
"It is time to begin this! Comes now your time to strain and sweat," the Wizard intones rapidly. And then he begins muttering the spell on the scroll. Soon the magic-users among the adventurers realize that they have been completely mistaken as to the type of enchantment Khang would be casting on them: this is a transmorph spell.
As the tempo of Khang's eldritch incantation quickens, blue-white tongues of static electricity brighten and hiss audibly around your bodies like St. Elmo's Fire. There is an increasing sense of coalescing magic questing from the Wizard, and the unnatural tension grows to be almost unendurable. You find it hard to silence the open-mouthed gasps by which you now breathe, and each of you fears that your heartbeat can be heard yards away.
Abruptly the Wizard's incantation peaks and then breaks off like a rim shot, instantly silenced by his palm and fingers outspread. With a bright flash and a dull pop, you tremble with an ecstasy of excitement and terror. Your hands flutter. Your heads bobble back and forth for a moment, as if with a palsy. You find it hard to do anything in this twitching, saucer-eyed state, save wait for its resolution.
You regain your vision just as you start to lose your footing. The room twists and rotates out from underneath you, and you are buffeted from side to side. When you regain your equilibrium, you see that you are being transported in a strange fleshy cage to another room.
Everything about this room is huge. Even the central lamps, burning blue-white instead of the customary yellow, cast monstrous shadows. The floor is marble, darkly colorful and complexly whorled. The dark walls are hung with giant astrological and anthropometric charts and instruments of magic, and are shelved with cryptically labeled porcelain jars and also with vitreous flasks and glass pipes of the oddest shapes, some filled with colored fluids, but many gleamingly empty, and all of them outsized---big enough to imprison you. At the foot of the walls, where the shadows are thickest, broken and discarded stuff is irregularly heaped, as if swept out of the way and forgotten, but even this detritus seems larger than life.
In the center of the room, where the illumination reaches its peak, sits a long ogre-sized table with thick top and many tall, stout legs. The tabletop is densely stained and scarred by many a spilled elixir and many a deep black burn by fire or acid, or both.
A huge face peers down at you---Khara Khang's face.
By this point, you have all realized that something has gone very, very wrong. You have been reduced by a ratio of 1:36, or to roughly 2 inches in height, and Khang has you in the palms of his hands. As if to add insult to injury (or perhaps due to a cruel sense of humor), you appear outwardly in Orcish form, though your gender and possessions remain unchanged. You note that Shipy has been caught in the enchantment as well, apparently much to his surprise.
Khang booms toward his miniaturized hires, which he holds in cupped hands, "Well my friends, the propitious time has arrived. Sorry to say, but with your new form and size, all magic items you carry will not work. Fortunately for you, spells and potions will. As I must remind you, you have a small task ahead. I have lost something of great value to me. Down my laboratory drain you will go to find and retrieve a crystal lens. You have been reduced to a height of 2 inches for this purpose, and only I can restore you to your normal size. This I will do only when you return my lost lens."
Without waiting for a reply, the Wizard lowers you into a gigantic white sink and turns his hands over, sending you rolling haphazardly across each other and sprawling prone. His huge finger points to a large hole (10 relative feet in diameter) in the center of the floor. He produces a piece of thread (e.g., rope) which he dangles down the hole. Fear of being crushed convinces you to follow the Wizard's command and descend the rope. Your fantastic journey in the bowels of Khazan has begun.
What do you do?
Kimlure [cf. Goblin Crag --ed.] would be aghast at this treatment. Most people just sigh and head back to Lenscrafters when they lose a contact.
Sweetsong takes the blood oath. "I'm ready as I'll ever be. Let's get the lens retrieval job started." I hope I survive this adventure.
Sweetsong climbs down the rope and then casts Cateyes on herself.
"Well my friends, the propitious time has arrived. Sorry to say, but with your new form and size, all magic items you carry will not work."
This sounds bad, but Bela does not carry much in the way of magic items, anyway. He hates to lose the use of his Wizard's pen, though.
"Only I can restore you to your normal size. This I will do only when you return my lost lens."
"You lout! You lousy, near-sighted, cheating, good-for-nothing has-been!" And with this, he scurries down the rope.
Does this sink have a drain trap? If so, then we'll land in water at the bottom of the rope, and we'll have to carry the rope through the trap so we can get farther down.
Shipy looks around at the enlarged landscape. "For the love of all that's holy what has the Wizard done to me?" He looks at new Orc self. "I mean really Jax, I wanted to be your brother, but not as a Orc!" <snort, snort> "I don't even have a weapon!"
"You lout! You lousy, near-sighted, cheating, good-for-nothing has-been!"
Shipy pats Bela on the shoulder while Sweetsong shimmies down the rope skillfully. "I know, let it out, life is.... hey!" Bela disappears down the giant drain in a huff. Shipy calls down to him, "If it makes you feel any better, you can call me Taran!" He laughs, then frowns.
"Blah! What about this dang environment? What a glorious feeling, the sweet smell of the sewers. Argh!" He taunts Jax. "Thanks a lot, everybody. Now I'll never get out of here alive!"
Suddenly Shipy realizes he's the last one left. "Uh, dibs on going last down the rope!" <snort, snort>
"Well, if I'm not an Orc's mother," she exclaims. "It seems it will be a very interesting journey from here."
Sweetsong climbs down the rope and then casts Cateyes on herself.
Midnight scuttles down the rope (string) and casts Cateyes on herself. Then she proceeds to cast a Will-o-Wisp on the end of her staff for the benefit of the non-spellcasting members of her party.
"You lout! You lousy, near-sighted, cheating, good-for-nothing has-been!"
Hearing this, she says with a hint of a smile, "At least someone has got the nerve to shout out at his employer." Long ago she learned not to insult those who pay her wages, as this tends to close their purse strings.
She takes one look at her fellow delvers and remarks, "That Khang is an impatient one. He never even bothered to answer the questions I asked him about his lens. Oh well. It seems there is nothing to do but go on with this recovery mission of his. Damn. I really hate travelling by drain. Once was enough."
As the tempo of Khang's eldritch incantation quickens....
Jax's lungs cry out for more air. He flops around, agape like a hooked catfish, his limbs clawing at his throat as if to open it up. For a fleeting moment, the Orc wonders if this is what drowning feels like (Jax cannot swim), and he thinks of his lost brother, who could very well have followed through with his braindead plan to walk through his Talo Worm's portal---only to find himself at the bottom of the sea, never to return [cf. the end of The Pirate Blade of Rahnian --ed.].
Abruptly the Wizard's incantation peaks and then breaks off....
Headrush. Disorientation. Familiar odors. The unfamiliar scale of a towering bench and table, blurred. A massive human hand, looming.... Jax tries to escape, but stumbles over a short Orc who cries out like a schoolgirl. More Orcs. What the frak?
"Well my friends, the propitious time has arrived. Sorry to say, but with your new form and size, all magic items you carry will not work."
Jax pulls out his scimitar, and checks his reflection in it. He starts laughing; the situation is just too absurd to suppress it. And he enjoys the sensation---how long has it been since he has laughed? Verily, he enlisted for the distraction, but he never expected this! "So much for you," the ever-pragmatic Warrior tells his uber-blade before sheathing it.
"Well, if I'm not an Orc's mother."
Jax looks appraisingly at the Elf's new form. "Orc, indeed. Mother, not. You don't have the hips." He grins tuskily.
"I mean really Jax, I wanted to be your brother, but not as a Orc! I don't even have a weapon!"
"Here, take a dagger and a bear claw. I want these back." Jax hands the Hobbit a bich'wa and a bagh nakh (they fit together).
"You have a small task ahead."
"Hey, dude's funny!"
"Down my laboratory drain you will go to find and retrieve a crystal lens. You have been reduced to a height of 2 inches for this purpose."
"OH! You mean contact lens!" He nods with feigned understanding (it was a tavern joke, after all) and winks at the butt-ugly Orc (Midnight) next to him. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name?"
"Only I can restore you to your normal size. This I will do only when you return my lost lens."
"Hmm, mean as a Zweetz-lovin' bug, but still funny. I knew I liked him."
"You lout! You lousy, near-sighted, cheating, good-for-nothing has-been!"
Jax smirks at the sight of an Orc swearing like a polite Elf. "Bela, remind me to teach you some curses in Yithian. They roll off the tusks more... effectively."
Shipy calls down to [Bela], "If it makes you feel any better, you can call me Taran!"
Jax silences Shipy's laugh. "Don't."
"Blah! What about this dang environment? What a glorious feeling, the sweet smell of the sewers. Argh!"
Jax suddenly decides that Shipy was better as a Hobbit. Won't be the first time.
"Thanks a lot, everybody. Now I'll never get out of here alive!"
Jax, despite his disturbing daymare and the turn of events, can't help but find his old enthusiasm again. "Ah, piece of cake, little buddy. Just grit your tusks like this and inhale through your mouth every so often to check the flow of spittle. Oh, and you might not want to drool at Sweetsong; she's only been an Orc for a few minutes and might take that the wrong way." Grin.
Jax shimmies down the rope second to last, with Tasyjai and Shipy right above him. When somebody below fires up a magic candle, ruining his vision, Jax bellows down the rope, "Kill the frakkin light! You've got HotVision™ now. Use it!"
Jax has only 14 Luck with his magic buckeye out of commission. He also has infravision (120'), so I'm assuming the other Orcs in the party have it too.
Tasyjai gasps at her transformation and looks wide-eyed at the rest of the group. "What kind of sick...," she starts, then takes a deep breath before another tremor of anger quivers through her.
"Only I can restore you to your normal size. This I will do only when you return my lost lens."
"I assume you will also return us to our proper race too?" she says haughtily.
"You lout! You lousy, near-sighted, cheating, good-for-nothing has-been!"
"You forgot scheming, deceiver, conniving and trickster."
"Bela, remind me to teach you some curses in Yithian. They roll off the tusks more... effectively."
Realization dawns. This might not be too bad. We have someone who knows what being an Orc is all about. He will be useful in helping with the adjustment.
"Ah, piece of cake, little buddy. Just grit your tusks like this and inhale through your mouth every so often to check the flow of spittle. Oh, and you might not want to drool at Sweetsong; she's only been an Orc for a few minutes and might take that the wrong way."
Tasyjai barks a laugh. "Useful information there, Jax. I'll be sure to remember it!" She waits for Jax to have a start down and then grabs hold of the rope. Looking up at Shipy, she says, "See you at the bottom!" and follows the party downward.
Was Jax right? Since we are now Orcs, do we have HotVision™ too?
The Wizard lowered all of you down to the drain trap on a length of cotton. Lucky for you, the drain trap is not working, or else it would be completely filled with water. All players in Orcish form have infravision (which Dracons know as HotVision™); this allows you to see detailed heat shapes in darkness. The Cateyes spell gives added detail and additional distance. Will-o-Wisp ruins infravision since it is a light source.
The two blood-brothers Jax and Shipy, tall and small, feel the full intoxication of the adventure, its surging bittersweet song of the unexpected, its hot promises of reward, its uninhibited eternity of rushing adrenaline. Bela, Sweetsong and Midnight no doubt feel it too. Tasyjai just thinks it is the sewer gas going to her head.
Nervously clutching the rope, you are all lowered into the darkness of the drain. Vile smells greet you: the air is swooningly fetid. The pipe reverberates with the sound of gurgling water and you wish you were back home safe. Before long, a pool appears beneath you. Its feeble blue glow illuminates the rough surrounding walls.
The gurgling noises and splashes are caused by water flowing through the pipes below, and you hear many such noises whenever you stop to listen.
The pipe appears to be made from baked clay and is very rough. Climbing the walls is possible in some areas. In other spots, the walls are slippery and not climbable.
For three breaths, Sweetsong slits her eyes in thought to cast Cateyes; she is the first one down the rope and stands aside on the gently sloping walls of the drain. The infravision she enjoys with her new Orcish form allows her to see detailed heat shapes [think of the movie Predator]; the spell gives her heat vision even more resolution.
In the pipe ahead is a gigantic pair of rusted and bent tweezers spanning the pool, which is 10 feet wide and 18 feet across. On the other side, the pipe slopes upwards out of the liquid. The pipe walls are covered with a greenish slime. With Cateyes, Sweetsong and Midnight see a faint oil film covering the glowing blue pool. The Will-o-Wisp Midnight invokes lights the area, increasing your odds of crossing the 20 foot long tweezers.
Shipy frowns furiously, his rather piggy red-rimmed eyes fixed on the tweezers. Finally he says, "I wondered where those went!" As he jumps off the rope, he bumps into Tasyjai from behind.
On the other side of the water (about 18 feet away) the tunnel curves up out of view so that you cannot see very far ahead. Faint whistlings and moanings echo along the pipe.
What do you do?
"Just grit your tusks like this and inhale through your mouth every so often to check the flow of spittle. Oh, and you might not want to drool at Sweetsong; she's only been an Orc for a few minutes and might take that the wrong way."
"I've never been an Orc before. What else should I know?"
"I wondered where those went!"
"Shall we cross to the other side? I'll go first." Sweetsong starts to cross the tweezers.
As he jumps off the rope, he bumps into Tasyjai from behind.
Looking over her shoulder, she unconsciously checks her possessions. "Watch where you're going, Hobbit."
"Shall we cross to the other side? I'll go first."
After a moment of thought, Tasyjai says, "Go right ahead, Sweetsong. We'll see you on the other side." She smiles a small smile of encouragement.
"I've never been an Orc before. What else should I know?"
"Hold on, I have the instruction manual here somewhere...," he deadpans. "Eh, just wing it, Sweets. Depending on your lineage, you may not like sunlight too much, but I don't think we'll need to worry about that here. Also, be wary of your lower center of gravity. Unless you're Shipy."
"Shall we cross to the other side? I'll go first."
"Go right ahead, Sweetsong. We'll see you on the other side."
"Right-o. I'll steady the tweezers on this end while everyone crosses. Sweets, you hold them on the other side when you get there. Watch your head." Jax stoops and holds the tweezers in place while the others cross. He will follow last.
I'm assuming that we can all see well enough to cross the tweezers. If 1 candle (the Will-o-Wisp) is not sufficient illumination, then infravision should be sufficient. Infravision also has the advantage of not letting others know we are here.
"Well, if I'm not an Orc's mother."
"Orc, indeed. Mother, not. You don't have the hips."
With this remark, she has a dagger at Jax's throat and one down buy his manhood (if it can be called that). She stares him right in the eyes and says in fluent Orcish, "And what do you know about Elvish birthing, you disreputable excuse for an Orc?"
"Sorry, I didn't catch your name?"
"You did not catch my name because I did not throw it. And if you keep on making remarks about my heritage, the next time I will cut it off and you can be called Eunuch. Understand?"
"Kill the frakkin light! You've got HotVision™ now. Use it!"
"What was that about HotVision™? As far as I'm concerned, an Orc cannot see a ruby in a block of ice. This," she says, holding up her staff, "will make things a little clearer, as you have no doubt noticed. And," she adds matter-of-factly, "your eyes should be accustomed to the light from Khang's room. Now is there anything else you want to add?"
She turns to the rest of the party. "Just call me Midnight. Now shall we cross or what?"
"Well, if I'm not an Orc's mother."
"Orc, indeed. Mother, not. You don't have the hips."
"And what do you know about Elvish birthing, you disreputable excuse for an Orc?"
"Testy, testy! I referred to your Orcish hips in the context of Orcish birthing," he states calmly. "You misunderstood, that's all." At this point, Midnight might notice the bagh nakh ready to rip out her gut.
"And if you keep on making remarks about my heritage, the next time I will cut it off and you can be called Eunuch. Understand?"
"As you misunderstood me, I'll ignore your threat. Besides, it would be rather counterproductive. I mean," he whispers, drawing closer to her face, "if you were a true Orc, your threat would have been a sexual advance." He grins tuskily, then withdraws with purpose.
"Kill the frakkin light! You've got HotVision™ now. Use it!"
"What was that about HotVision™? As far as I'm concerned, an Orc cannot see a ruby in a block of ice."
"With HotVision&trade, correct. What's your point?"
"This will make things a little clearer, as you have no doubt noticed."
Jax shrugs. "I can see 120 feet in the dark, but not with your candle. Also, your light will attract attention. But suit yourself, by all means."
"And your eyes should be accustomed to the light from Khang's room."
"I think you assume too much about Orcish eyesight. But what do I know? I'm just an Orc."
Everything with a temperature radiates in the infrared (see NASA). Also, I'm proposing that an Orc's inability to use infravision in illuminated environments is not due to light pollution per se. Technically, visible light doesn't pollute the infrared spectrum, except at the nebulous boundary between the two; rather, it's the overwhelming heat of the typical light source that does. Jax wouldn't know this, of course. Rather, I think Orcish vision just evolved in a manner that makes simultaneous viewing of the visible and infrared portions of the spectrum impossible, with visible light receptors in the Orcish eye taking precedence over infrared receptors.
Shipy stands surprised and bemused, flanked by the swiftly-forming dispute between Midnight and Jax over the perceived implications of the use of certain words. All around him is the chance of death; and here these two are rushing it with steel against flesh. His is an inescapable thought of little they are aware of how much they might actually need each other in the coming hours, and how one thrust or slash at the other, would unerringly make friends into foes.
Sweetsong ducks to keep from hitting her head on the bend in the pipe above and easily crosses the tweezers first. [Sweetsong made her L1SR DX check to cross the tweezers.] The narrow 20 foot long metal beam, held fast by Jax, twists a little under her weight. Gracefully stepping off on the other side with a near perfect crossing, Sweetsong turns around and steadies the tweezers on her end, as Jax requested. The passageway, a baked clay circular pipe 10 feet in diameter) continues onward into the darkness beyond Sweetsong.
As he jumps off the rope, he bumps into Tasyjai from behind.
Looking over her shoulder, she unconsciously checks her possessions. "Watch where you're going, Hobbit."
"I always watch where I am going, Tasyjai. Most of the time... er, sometimes. Ok, you were just in my way! Can't you see I'm an Orc now! Nary a Hobbit in sight!" he blurts, waving his hands dramatically. "So I need more room!" Shipy smirks as Tasyjai checks her belongings, but alas nothing of hers is missing.
If only Shipy were that nefarious. With a nudge to Tasyjai (so she would have to check her stuff again), Shipy moves by her and starts across the tweezers, leaving Bela, Midnight, Tasyjai and Jax yet to cross. "I don't like it here," the newly transformed Orc née Hobbit asserted. "I'm a fig for courts and beds and inside fires! The edge of life is keener in the house, not on the mountaintop, or in our case, the sewer!"
At the half-way point on the tweezers, a smooth black-skinned bloodworm rears up out of the pool unseen and successfully sinks its hooked teeth into Shipy's leg. [Shipy made his L1SR DX check to cross the tweezers, but failed a L4SR against SP.] Shipy screams from the pain as the bloodworm jerks him off the tweezers into the glowing blue pool of liquid. With a splash, both worm and Orc disappear below the water. [Shipy takes 6 hits off his CN and has three rounds to be recovered or he will drown!]
At the same moment, on the opposite side of the tweezers, Sweetsong hears a faint scratching behind her---not unlike twigs against leather. She quickly turns and finds a huge rodent barelling toward her. Its large eyes glare menacingly and are rather widely set and furnace-red. Its teeth grin wickedly white, particularly the two huge upper incisors. Caught off guard, Sweetsong has no moment to think. [Sweetsong failed a L3SR against SP.]
The rat snatches Sweetsong up into its mouth, and charges away with her at a great loping speed. The musty-sour smell of wet animal fur fills Sweetsong's nostrils as the rat vaults away with her. As it races into the darkness, its claws clatter on the clay pipe and Sweetsong is buffetted from side to side. It leaps a section of water and continues on. [Sweetsong takes 10 hits off her CN, but her Scale Mail deducts 8, leaving her only 2 hits from her CN.]
The rat carrying Sweetsong is bigger than she is tall. Sweetsong has several choices:
What do you do?
As GM, I will now lay the vision issue to rest. Without a light source, all of you can see 120 feet in the dark, as opposed to 10 feet or less with a light source. Of course there are upsides and downsides to everything. The upside is that with a light source you can see details you would never see without a light source, like writing or small objects. The downside is that creatures can sneak within 10' of you unseen.
Midnight yells, "You lot take care of our fallen. I'm going after Sweetsong." With that, she runs across the tweezers and dissapears after the rat. She negates her light source once she is across.
"Shipy!" No sooner has the former Hobbit disappeared into the murky waters of dubious composition, than has Jax leapt into the air, bich'wa in one hand, grapple in the other. He tries to hook his grapple onto the tweezers as a safety line, for he cannot swim (Bela would know this from Lizardmen in Red Water Bay). Once in the water, he tries to free Shipy by attacking the worm. Now that Midnight has doused her light, Shipy and the worm should stand out (in infravision) like a Balrog at Bilbo's eleventyfirst birthday bash.
"I always watch where I am going, Tasyjai. Most of the time... er, sometimes. Ok, you were just in my way! Can't you see I'm an Orc now! Nary a Hobbit in sight! So I need more room!"
Tasyjai smirks at Shipy's grand display. "Uh-huh," is all she says, but she sticks out a foot to trip him as he passes her.
"Shipy!"
The thought of leaving Shipy skitters across her mind for half a second, but seeing Jax and Midnight jump into action forces Tasyjai to run on instinct. She throws one end of her rope to Jax in the water. "Here, grab my rope if you can," she shouts.
"Orc" is a bad word where he comes from, but just as Cambria taught him that an Elf could be evil [cf. The Pirate Blade of Rahnian --ed.], Bela has learned from Jax and Taran that an Orc can be good. He should have known this all along based on the history of his people; after all, could not the pride of Finwë and the wars that followed be considered evil?
So it is with no surprise that he finds himself, in the skin of an Orc, with no corruption in his heart. The form is not innately evil. Even more, he feels love for his brutish friend. So, between Elf and Orc, he chooses the Orc.
Bela is still very tall, and the pool should not be too deep. So, he wades into the water. He will find Jax or the worm. If he finds the worm, he will use his TTYF to kill it. Its simple nervous system should have little resistance to his powerful psychic attack.
If he is wrong about the depth, then he can swim. He will try really hard not to drink any of it.
Sweetsong screams for help, then casts Take That, You Fiend at the rodent and hopes it works.
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