A Tunnels and Trolls® play-by-post adventure run by khara_khang
Jax may spit a few silent curses and complaints, but he will never know just how close he and his fellow mini-Orcs avoided a most grisly death in the flame-filled pipe above. If there were a monetary wager for such events, the odds would have been stacked heavily against even the most seasoned of adventurers, and Jax has only been delving for a handful of years. Stranger things have happened to beat such odds, but it would not be good for morale to speak of them.
Jax takes a long look down the pipe, along the flowing path of water. Anything that washed down the drain would inevitably wash downhill. All Orcs know by experience that crap flows downhill, so downhill must be the way forward, muck or not. Jax Orc-forces a few scale pounds of the soft wax into his pack, possibly to mold around the lens for protection if they find it, but no one has ever asked the question, "How big is the lens?" That part is still a mystery.
East on Cash Street and west at the intersection of Cash and Silver sits a police post guarded by unbribed officers standing in browned-iron cuirasses and helms. They restlessly ground and rattle their pikes, unaware of the events unfolding in the sewers below ground. Khazan Police Post 105 has no alley entrance, trap door or window within its three-span thick stone walls, roof and floor. It is an impressive redoubt, and a prime example of pre-occupation Khazani architecture, but they can't care less. It is going to be a long night.
Sweetsong's eyes are momentarily mesmerized as she stares into the debris pile. The sparkling amethyst practically calls to her, saying "Take me, take me!" While pulling the twenty-scale-pound football-sized amethyst from the pile, Sweetsong dislodges the mini-Orc-sized blob of red-cherry bubble gum, causing it to roll off the pile directly toward her. She immediately dodges hard right in an Indiana Jones-type maneuver, vaulting un-Orc-like over a nut shell to emerge untouched from the rolling wad of gum. The bubble gum wobbles and rolls to a stop at the edge of the pile directly in front of Shipy, whose eyes flare with surprise at the thought of being stuck to ABC (Already Been Chewed) gum like so much fuzz. Sweetsong can't help but consider the idea that bubble gum might be molded into armor. Can it? That thought is one of many she has, as she gathers three javelin-sized toothpicks for future use.
Due to a perfect dice roll, Sweetsong made her Level 4 DX SR, thus avoiding becoming stuck to the cherry bubble gum and falling on the nut, which would have made her somewhat resemble a Ninja Turtle, which seems like a good reference, since you are in a sewer. <grins> Sweetsong will have to carry the gem in her hand as it is too big to stuff in her backpack.
The amethyst is more than just a gemstone of high value. It is also magical; Sweetsong sees this in her mind's eye as she cradles the egg-shaped gem under her arm. Sensing her innate sensitivity to magic, the amethyst bestows upon her its secret: she is immune to damage from the undead as long as she carries the gem. Still in her mind's eye, she suddenly sees two creatures approach to the screech of swords being drawn. Their large furnace-red eyes blink and shift restlessly as their feet move in sloppy, stooped shuffles. Each pair of red orbs flares up and down as they move their slender bodies, freely dangling long rotten flesh. Sweetsong snaps out of her vision. She looks around desperately, but fails to see or hear anything unusual. That was damn weird, she thinks.
Gathering four of the javelin-toothpicks, Midnight begins intoning arcane words in a strange language. It hardly seems like speech at all to the non-magic-users. Exotic syllables strike the air like the hammers of an invisible dulcimer. Her eyes spark and spit golden light, as the toothpicks are enticed and seduced by the golden light of magic. Midnight mouths the final incantations and enchants three of the toothpicks into untested Wizard staves. She gives one each to Bela and Sweetsong, the other Wizards.
Recall that the first time a Hocus Pocused staff is used to cast a spell, a level 1 Luck saving roll must be passed to see if the magic works. A failed roll means the magic is burned out and the materials are wasted. Hocus Pocus only lasts for twice the caster's Intelligence in Power/Kremm/Mystic expended, so after 98 magic units, any of Midnight's staves that succeed on first cast will be burned out and cannot be re-enchanted.
After a thorough search of the junk pile (equivalent to 30 minutes' Power/Kremm/Mystic recovery), you find no sign of the missing Wizard lens. Midnight mutters in the arcane tongue again, this time casting Detect Magic per Jax's request. She finds only the gem and the feather with the attached scroll to be magical.
"I would not read that scroll, Jax!" Midnight chides calmly. "I detect a very distinct and harmful magical vibe coming from it." Shaking her head at his obliviousness, Midnight takes a few steps away from Jax, just in case he doesn't heed her warning.
Well beyond normal sight, a magical mist hovers a yard above the ground within the pipe, invisible to all but those who cast Detect Magic. Midnight sees it clearly as the fog thickens: a red disk forming in the center of the fog that looks oddly like a phantom face. Strands of a darker vapor stream outward from the face like tentacles, staining anyone they touch with a bright scarlet bullseye. Nobody but Bela and Midnight are aware that the fog is highlighting them, and they only see it with Detect Magic.
Tasyjai sups from her healing potion, and new skin forms over her wound, like a mouth closing. She offers the other half of her potion to anyone in need, but there are no takers.
"I think it suits you, Shipy. It was past time for a new look." She grins and places a rough Orcish hand on his shoulder. "I just want to thank you for taking me off the main course up there."
Shipy is wineless tonight, but nevertheless he is intoxicated by Tasyjai's comments, and touched by the sensations of newly heaped praise. "Really? You like my hair?" The Hobbit's eyes roll up as if to look at his own hair, then they glance back to Tasyjai and her hand on his shoulder. If Orcs could blush, Shipy would have.
He whispers so Jax can't overhear (but he still might), "I have saved Jax many times from an early death, many of which would have been excruciatingly painful, you know." Then his voice returns to normal. "Death is bad, Tas, remember that. I keep telling Jax that but he never listens to me. But don't you worry, for no harm will befall you while in my ward," he says, puffing up. "Besides, I'm pretty sure it's safe down here, unlike last time." Shipy can't help but like Tasyjai; she's nice, unlike his former crush, Lilac the Fairy, who used to thwap him soundly on the ear when that dreamy dumb look (as she called it) came across his face. In Orc form, the dreamy dumb look must be well hidden, he thinks.
Meanwhile, Sweetsong sees something astounding: a waking dream of green leaves on a sprig that then withers and curls and blackens. Sweetsong trembles and grows snow-pale while clutching the amethyst. In her vision, she glances down at her feet, which she notices are encircled by a tenuous white glyph. Her vision comes with a soundtrack too: a grinding voice groaning, increasing in volume. A hot wind rushes past down the pipe, bringing with it sounds of something dragging against stone. Sweetsong isn't sure the wind isn't part of her dream.
The rest of you suddenly become aware of a waddling sound, repeating slowly at first, then quickening. Two figures approach from the east, dragging their feet, hunchbacked and with prominent misshapen features, complete with out-jutting jaws and mouths agape in horror. They appear to be vaguely Orcish, but instead of skin, they are covered with a fleshy complexion of sallow, umber-like clay (with dried blood added for ghastly effect). Out of the darkness they come, fists clenched into disgustingly clubbed hands, knuckles big, ceaselessly flexed. The only movement their heads make is an occasional sidewise glance to each other as if in confirmation of some hideous plan. They are clearly semi-living undead. But how would they have come to be down here unless... unless you were not the first search party Khara Khang miniaturized? Could this be your fate too?
In a dead cold tone that bristles the hairs on the back of your Orcish necks, one of the approaching figures speaks acidly. "Aye, now the Wizard will bitterly regret sending you and for granting us this eternity." They stare at you with palpable hatred as they move in for the kill.
You get one move before the attack of the undead. You have several options:
What do you do?
East on Cash Street....
I don't see what this has to do with us unless it's our final destination.
[Sweetsong] immediately dodges hard right in an Indiana Jones-type maneuver, vaulting un-Orc-like over a nut shell to emerge untouched from the rolling wad of gum.
"Nice moves. Reminds me of an Orc I met a few months ago. Where did you learn to move like that?" she asks.
After a thorough search of the junk pile (equivalent to 30 minutes' Power/Kremm/Mystic recovery)....
This should bring Midnight back up to roughly full power.
Midnight mutters in the arcane tongue again, this time casting Detect Magic per Jax's request.
I thought Detect Magic is always active in Wizards, or is it just me?
Nobody but Bela and Midnight are aware that the fog is highlighting them....
Now this does make Midnight very uneasy.
"Really? You like my hair?" The Hobbit's eyes roll up as if to look at his own hair, then they glance back to Tasyjai and her hand on his shoulder. If Orcs could blush, Shipy would have.
"Seems to me like Shipy and Sweetsong are getting a little close. Now if only Jax would lighten up," she mentions to no one in particular.
In [Sweetsong's] vision, she glances down at her feet, which she notices are encircled by a tenuous white glyph. Her vision comes with a soundtrack too: a grinding voice groaning, increasing in volume. A hot wind rushes past down the pipe, bringing with it sounds of something dragging against stone.
Will the action never end? Nope? Good. I hate a boring adventure.
They are clearly semi-living undead. But how would they have come to be down here unless... unless you were not the first search party Khara Khang miniaturized? Could this be your fate too?
This thought does cross Midnight's mind.
"Dag Fragnit. I hate spiritwalkers," mumbles Midnight as she brings back her unenchanted toothpick and lets fly at the nearest undead.
Scream like school girls and hold each other because you have no choice.
What's it with the GM and school girls??
It seems I have several issues to address. First off, Detect Magic is not always active. Of course it costs nothing for a Wizard (not a Rogue) to use, but the T&T Rulebook does not indicate that it is "always on" like a car headlight. The spell needs to be cast, e.g., activated, to use it.
The Will-o-Wisp spell cast on the pebble requires continued power to keep it active, since it lasts for only 10 minutes. If it is still on, Midnight will have had to renew it 3 times, and it is up for a fourth renewal now, as it has been over 30 minutes.
As for the school girl option, it comes from way back during another adventure and seemed like a light-hearted and funny option to give. Sometimes my humor is not always recognized by everyone, but we must remember that T&T has always had more humor than most games, albeit somewhat bizarre at times.
Lastly one can't "put away" a six-foot javelin-sized toothpick. These will have to be carried in hand. The same goes for Sweetsong, carrying 3 javelins and 1 football-sized gem.
Understood about the javelins. But there are belts to tie them to.
If there is any malice detected with the school girl question then I most humbly appologise.
"I have saved Jax many times from an early death, many of which would have been excruciatingly painful, you know. Death is bad, Tas, remember that. I keep telling Jax that but he never listens to me."
Tasyjai represses a smile while listening. Modesty does not become him. She nods gravely and promises him she will remember.
"But don't you worry, for no harm will befall you while in my ward. Besides, I'm pretty sure it's safe down here, unlike last time."
Tasyjai gets a weird, deja-vu like sensation when she hears Shipy say these last words. Unable to grasp the memory, she shakes her head slightly and tries to clear the wisps tickling her brain. Retrieving her wyne skin from her pack, she takes a long swallow. Taking a deep breath, she takes another quick swig before offering it to Sweetsong and Midnight. Seeing Shipy eye the skin wistfully, she smiles ruefully at him and says simply, "Ladies first."
Sweetsong trembles and grows snow-pale while clutching the amethyst.
Noticing Sweetsong's pale face as she looks around the pipe, Tasyjai walks over and holds out the wyne skin to her. "Feeling alright?"
After passing the wyne skin around, she assists in the search of the debris pile. When that is complete, she looks up the pipe, then west and then east.
Two figures approach from the east, dragging their feet, hunchbacked and with prominent misshapen features, complete with out-jutting jaws and mouths agape in horror.
"Um, guys, I think we have company," she says upon glimpsing the decayed Orc-zombie creatures.
"Dag Fragnit. I hate spiritwalkers."
Tasyjai screams "NO!" a second too late to prevent Midnight's javelin launch. "The only way to defeat zombies is by using magical weapons and I'm out of stock on those for the moment. I think our best option is to run. Everyone head down the pipe, I'll try and slow them down!" she gushes out.
If everyone takes her advice, then when she has a clear shot, Tasyjai attempts to cast Mirage on the Orc-zombies and then follows the rest of the group down the pipe, scooping up the glow-pebble at the last moment.
What's it with the GM and school girls??
Hahaha. He's a guy!
"I would not read that scroll, Jax! I detect a very distinct and harmful magical vibe coming from it."
"Right-o, thanks." The last time Jax ignored a dire warning, he brought Trollworld to the brink of cataclysm [cf. The Pirate Blade of Rahnian --ed.]. That lesson (unlike others) has stuck. He leaves the feather where it lies and walks over to the lower end of the debris pile.
"I have saved Jax many times from an early death, many of which would have been excruciatingly painful, you know. Death is bad, Tas, remember that. I keep telling Jax that but he never listens to me.... Besides, I'm pretty sure it's safe down here, unlike last time."
"Heard that. Oracle he is not, but one helluva good luck charm, eh Shipy?" Jax rubs the Shipy-Orc's head as if it were Aladdin's lamp. "S'why I keep him around, anyway." Toothy grin.
Passing Shipy and Tasyjai, Jax hears Midnight talking to herself, then notices Sweetsong's transformation:
Sweetsong trembles and grows snow-pale while clutching the amethyst.
"Feeling alright?"
"Yeah, you OK, Sweetsong?" Sure, they've all been spooked by the experience, but something in her expression seems hauntingly familiar. Going out on a limb, he queries privately, but perhaps others nearby overhear it: "You're... uh, not seeing, er, visions, are you?" His voice trails off, leaving behind many implications, but she doesn't respond. Perhaps she doesn't hear him, or perhaps she is distracted by Tasyjai's warning:
"Um, guys, I think we have company."
"Aye, now the Wizard will bitterly regret sending you and for granting us this eternity."
They are Orcs, just like themselves, only more... rotten. The stunning conclusion is that Khang has tried sending mini-Orcs down before, and failed to restore them! Not a good sign. But before Jax can weigh their options to enjoin battle, Midnight hurls a javelin and Tasyjai screams!
"NO! The only way to defeat zombies is by using magical weapons and I'm out of stock on those for the moment. I think our best option is to run. Everyone head down the pipe, I'll try and slow them down!"
It's another bad sign if true, and nothing in his experience refutes it.
In the timelessness before the electrochemical reactions in his bulging sinews snap his limbs into action, the rational, Haroouugh part of his brain races into overdrive. He does know that the Undead are notoriously difficult to stop, and that there's no telling what the magical fluids flushed down these pipes may have done to strengthen these creatures---even perhaps against spells, their only potentially effective mode of ranged attack. Also, if becoming Undead prevented Khang's enchantment from returning these souls to their former selves, then it would be folly to risk contracting the condition when they could simply outrun them. But they would certainly try to follow....
"Enough!" Jax bellows as he draws his scimitar and prepares to show Arnn-Gaxx just who is the boss of him!
But due to a quirk of fate [L1SR: 1+4 +14LK = 19 < 20], Jax's grip fails on the oily, slippery hilt of his scimitar, and the enchanted blade arcs high overhead behind him and clatters to the floor some distance down the west end of the pipe.
<beat>
"Oh frak.... Uh, you heard Tas! FLY, PEOPLE!" Jax retreats down the pipe, stopping to pick up his weapon and to urge his comrades to pass him (presumably if it's too dim, his HotVision™ kicks in). He'll wait for the last Orc, then bring up the rear since he can take the most hits.
Before the undead arrive, Sweetsong picks up the 12-foot rope. Afterward, she casts Freeze Pleeze at the them. And hopes it stops them. She readies a javelin to attack the undead if they still come at her.
With Freeze Pleeze cast upon them and the toothpick (hopefully) hitting one of them, there should be a shattered frozen zombie strewn about the immediate area. Let's hope it works.
When Sweetsong picks up the amethyst, Bela admires it, kenning vaguely its helpful magical nature. "Nice find, Sweetsong. I have a hunch you may be needing it, soon." When she seems to snap out of a trance, he queries, "What were you looking at? Did you see something?" She shakes her head, but maybe it's a shiver.
When Midnight hands him a newly-enchanted staff, without looking up or otherwise moving, Bela cups his hands around it, cautiously baring it into view, displaying it as if it were a rare captive butterfly or beetle, one with a carapace of softly burnished wood.
"This is a very well-fashioned staff, Midnight," Bela congratulates her, raising the implement of magic. He offers his Elfin thanks to Midnight, bowing his head a shade, opening his hands a bit wider and tipping them a trifle.
"I have been thinking about what I saw just before the spiders attacked us. I hope you and Sweetsong saw it, too. These pipes are practically saturated with essences of power, I presume from the disposed residue of Khara Khang's magical practices. I suppose I should have expected that, but I did not expect the form I saw it take. It is like the fog outside, moving through everything, and it seems to move with a will. It flowed about and through the spiders, but it seemed to move differently about us. It touched us, and then the spiders struck. Please, tell me if you saw it, too.
When Midnight warns Jax not to read the scroll attached to the cockatrice feather, Bela nods admiringly at her use of magic. He is glad to have the company of other magical and Elfin people, even if they have been turned into Orcs.
When Shipy glows with Tasyjai's compliments, Bela raises an eyebrow. Sometimes it is hard to tell when the little Hobbit is serious, and it is even harder with his Orcish voice, but there is that extra bit of gentleness. Is Shipy getting a crush?
"Aye, now the Wizard will bitterly regret sending you and for granting us this eternity."
Their brief respite is over, but Bela's reflective nature can't help but linger on the undead's words. Bela has his own eternity to live, and he does not regret it. He is not afraid of the dead of mortals. But what these creatures say is truly frightening. The images he has been seeing now come into focus, and he begins to realize that they are in trouble oceans deeper than their first experiences in the pipes led him to believe. They are heading into an enemy realm where the power against them will increase as they near it, yet their own resources are so limited. What can they do? Perhaps they should all run, seek a way out and get more help.
Bela has hesitated, and the action moves ahead of him. In a moment, Midnight has cast her javelin at the zombies, Tasyjai has cast a spell, and Jax and Shipy have retreated. The zombies are nearly upon them, and he knows he and the other Wizards cannot defeat them. He could run, but Tasyjai and Midnight have committed themselves to the battle. If he leaves, they will surely die.
"To me, to me!" he cries. "Stand close to me!" He begins his best spell of defense, Protective Pentagram, one that the two Wizards will recognize at once, and perhpas Jax and Shipy too. Around him the glow begins.
Bela has the strength, with or without the staff.
Within Khazan's walls is a higher and more formidable wall, and above that looms the titanic citadel fortress that serves as the Death Goddess's palace.
The sergeant from Khazan Police Post 105 glances back over his shoulder as he leads his soldiers on patrol. This part of the city would give anyone nightmares; it does as much as anything to maintain Khazan's reputation of being haunted. Its walls are strong but they have been carved with many strange figures. Leering monstrous heads emerge at every corner from sheer stone. Massive tormented figures support flying buttresses. Titanic dragon heads tip the tower tops of merchant and Wizard houses alike, for this is one of the richest sections of Khazan. Were these works of art created by an insane sculptor? What sort of twisted mind could have conceived and executed such designs? And why would several people go missing over the last few weeks, after last being seen in this area?
Beyond the citadel, the whitewashed walls and red-tiled roofs of the rest of the city come as a relief to the sergeant. But even here, things can look strange and foreboding. The roofs are higher and steeply sloped. The temple spires are topped by minarets and onion domes. This is the architecture of Khazan. These sights, as much as the hushed guttural chatter of the non-human soldiers around him, tell the sergeant that many things unknown transpire here. The strangeness of the city fuels and gives credence to the oft-told tales of horror that surely take place behind these closed doors. Or below his very feet.
Midnight and Sweetsong: your javelins (toothpicks) may be belt-strapped across your back. Sweetsong, the 12 scale foot length of rope (string) is yours. As posted in my last GM post, you all had the first combat action. Doing something other than running away will allow the undead to close ranks and attack you. Tasyjai, in her own unique way, pointed out to me offline that in stories and movies, the good guys always get a parting shot as they flee the bad guys; this slows down the baddies and enables the good guys to escape. Unfortunately T&T is broken down into combat rounds, with each person getting only one action (such as flee, attack, or spell use). Sorry.
The echoes of shambling footfalls have not died before Midnight shoulders her improvised javelin and defiantly hurls it with proficiency at one of the approaching zombies. The zombie takes the (non-enchanted) javelin solidly in the chest. Its head flops backward with the force of the impact but its rubbery neck cords jerk it back in place. Its lips twitch as if to hurl a curse, but from them comes only a dry croaking. It grimaces despairingly as it closes to attack Midnight.
Jax wanted to enjoin the battle, but his weapon slips. When Tasyjai sounds a retreat, he realizes she is right. Jax breaks off and retreats out of attack range of the zombies.
The 20 feet wide and 30 feet high rectangular pipe slopes down steadily westward and a stream a few feet deep of apparently harmless murky water flows along the south wall. The liquid gathers in a few places where the pipe dips out of slope.
No sooner has Shipy handed Tasyjai's wyne skin back to her, than he realizes that another swig, or better yet, a stiffer drink, would have been preferred. In a matter of moments he finds himself retreating away from the zombies beside Jax. He can't understand why the others have not followed suit. Wyne-induced thoughts of his own death at the hands of some overly affectionate strong-hipped Orcish zombie woman amuse him in his retreat.
The undead Orcs seem to ignore Sweetsong even as she prepares to cast the spell Freeze Pleeze at them. After a moment, Sweetsong's hands are shaking with intensity as they discharge a wide swath of ice forceful enough to shred most living (or non-living) things into shreds. The pipe shaft is instantly crusted with ice. But Sweetsong's heart sinks as the zombies continue forward, visibly unharmed. Their eyes remain balefully open and fixed upon those (save Sweetsong) of you who unwisely decided not to retreat. Their shrunken lips twist themselves into a horrible caricature of a smile.
Tasyjai is right to sound the retreat, but she is not completely heeded. Indeed, she should have acted on her own words. She decides against casting Mirageso as not to confuse her comrades who remain between her and the zombies. As she stoops to grab Midnight's pebble, thoughts of her own mortality flash before her inner eye like a waking dream.
Accelerating as they approach, the Orc zombies close ranks and climb the debris pile. The walls crank up the intensity of their brightness, alight with magical glowing minerals, rhythmically pulsating. The first zombie raises its large club fist and strikes Midnight a crushing blow whose pain will not soon be forgotten. Midnight staggers away, spitting blood and seeing stars. [Midnight takes 15 hits. Her armor absorbs 6 hits, leaving her with 9 CN. Midnight easily makes a L2 DX SR to remain standing and is not stunned.]
Shipy's warning cry drops Tasyjai squarely back in reality's lap, just as the second zombie attacks. Caught off guard, she is powerless to defend, and finds herself a dispassionate observer of her own potential demise, exactly as her waking dream foretold. She looks at the undead Orc, and feels deep in her core that the world she knows is yet only a film masking abominations, like a zombie's dream. The zombie attacks with its misshapen fist. Tasyjai is so close that its eyes appear to glow with a ghostly suggestion of malice. A fist trailing chunks of flesh and rotten sinew slams into Tasyjai, knocking her off her feet and spinning her vision like a mixed drink stirred with a heaping dollop of pain and blood. [Tasyjai takes 16 hits. Her armor absorbs 6 hits, leaving her with 10 CN. Tasyjai fails her L2 DX SR and falls to the ground stunned for one round.]
The second zombie's wallop is so loud, Shipy stops in his tracks to look back. His eyes pop with horror. He realizes that he cannot just leave Tasyjai to become zombie food. This is all wrong. They are all closely linked, their fates interdependent. They are stronger together, not apart. Shipy rushes back up the debris pile, grabs Tasyjai and carries her away from the zombie.
As the zombies close, time seems to dilate for Bela. He can see zombie sinews contract and twist as they attack. He can see individual droplets of Midnight's and Tasyjai's blood spatter the sewer walls as they take a beating. He feels his strength draining out of him as he prepares his spell, but he has been in enough battles to know his limits. Everything happens with an acute slowness, like in a nightmare. Suddenly Bela utters a smothered exclamation as his Protective Pentagram begins to form. He realizes, too late, the futility in spells of protection against magic-resistant zombies. His intuition just took too long today. A small rock drops from the heights above after rattling down the vertical pipe; it lands near his feet. Something tugs at Bela's thoughts like the Sirens' voices at the fettered Odysseus: Protective Pentagram will not work, you fool!
Everyone now has several options:
What do you do?
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