Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
The return to CITY was largely uneventful. Joachim and Delphine bickered, and then got married, Mallus got drunk, and I was confronted by a serious dearth of things that I could safely set afire.
What a relief it was to finally stand upon solid ground once more!
The CITY welcomed us back with open arms, as the saviors of St.Tarte. I accepted the accolades with dignity and grace; the people need a proper hero, after all, and who better than Burne?
WHATEVER THEY WERE CHEERING FOR, IT WASN'T BURNE. KENJI, BEING WISER THAN BURNE, INSISTED UPON ANONYMITY.
BEING WISER THAN BURNE REALLY ISN'T MUCH OF A TRICK, THOUGH.
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Delphine was hustled off by Naval personnel; it seems as though her father had reported that was missing, and presumed kidnapped. Joachim was dissuaded from fighting to prevent this reunion of father and child, as it was deemed best that St. Sous remain ignorant of his daughter's marriage. Joachim moped about, but returned to work at the Palm d'Whorl. The madman returned to his filthy do-jo, and Kenji and Rackhir did whatever it is that ignorant foreigners do with the free time; folded paper, perhaps.
And I? I had an opportunity, thanks to the good Captain Revi. The Navy had a need for men with talents like mine....
A few days after the group's return to CITY, Burne vanishes. He'd seemed distracted for several days, more than usually irritable, and kept muttering to himself, so his disappearance doubtless came as something of a relief to the others.
Sadly, he *re*appears a day later. With news, important news! Or so he claims….
"Gentlem…ah, I mean frien…no, that's not right…comrades! Yes, comrades! Comrades, I have come to the realization that my present situation is simple intolerable. My alchemical laboratory no longer suffices for anything but the most basic of preparations, and I can no longer bear to have my genius stifled in such a fashion.
"So. I spent the morning seeking a solution, and behold! A solution I have found."
Burne pauses dramatically. Abraxis makes a noise that sounds remarkably like a groan of despair.
"I have been accepted into the Naval Academy, where I will be undergoing...ah...special training."
He laughs, a little nervously.
"Purely a formality in my case, I'm sure. There certainly won't be any marching or exercising involved. Even a casual glance will reveal that I am, after all, in perfect physical condition, and should not be induced to embark upon a forced march in the! Driving! Rain!"
One eyelid twitches convulsively.
"In any case, this should lead into my induction into the Fulminant and Acquisitive Research Division of the naval authority, where my unique talents will most certainly be recognized, celebrated, and -- dare I say it? -- rewarded."
Burne smiles, his gaze becoming suddenly distant.
"Unrestricted access to elemental phlogiston," he murmurs rapturously. "The possibilities, the potential!"
He pauses, shakes his head, and his eyes snap back into focus.
"Alas," he continues in a more normal tone, "This opportunity is not without its tragedies. For the month of so of my 'training', I shall be incommunicado. Not by choice, you understand, but I'm sure that the Navy has their reasons.
"So, I shall have my lab but you -- sadly -- will be without Burne. Only for a time, though, only for a time! I will have an opportunity to undertake certain...projects," he glances sidelong at Abraxis, "As well as conduct some research into Xian's difficulties. In fact, I feel reasonably certain that I can find an answer that does not in any way involve adultery, incest, or blasphemous violations of the laws of gods and man."
Burne considers for a moment. "I make no promises as to the latter, actually."
"Once my obligations have been discharged, and my work somewhat resolved, I will be free to rejoin you in your quest to bring fiery justice to the waterfront. Until then, I am sure that you can contact me in case of an emergency…although I would prefer it if no such emergency were to arise.
"Well!" he claps his together. "I have preparations to make, explosives to pack. I'm supposed to report precisely at noon, and being late simply isn't an option. I shall make my presence known upon my return, by which time I am sure that you will have the present situation well in hand."
...and with this, Burne takes a brief hiatus from the game. Just Burne himself, mind -- not the story hour.
At this point in the campaign, Burne had a lot of creations to...um, create, and completely lacked the time and the facilities to do so. And I, for my own part, had an idea for another character....
So, for a period of about three months real-time, and a matter of only a few weeks game-time, Burne's place was taken by an entirely different sort of fellow....
(And, for the record, by the time his replacement's tenure had ended, I was greatly looking forward to running Burne again. Just as I had hoped.)
The player who was running the madman (AKA Druid/Barb) also switched to running an wiz(?)/alienist at this time as well. Thus depriving us of any more quotes involving pudding. His "Pseudonatural" creatures were basically muppets in appearence.
__________________ "We are all Individuals! They chanted in unison...
Right... Any Seven left the group to pursue his life's true passion, schizophrenia. Only to be replaced by the far more lucid and erudite Prof. Hugo Chakraraja-Glaffston, of the CITY University of Conjuration Sciences.
Who summoned muppets.
And also managed to strike up a meaningful conversation with a caveman while at the Queen's Dancehall; a plot-thread I was very sorry to see let go.
__________________ "We're pimps and killers, but in a philanthropic way." -- Boyd, Dollhouse.
That player dropped out of the campaign soon after. I'd like to think I drove him away with my particular take on D&D, but thats probably giving myself too much credit. Scheduling issues are the more likely reason.
But don't worry. He was replaced by Meiji, played by a shadowy figure known as shilsen around here, another foreign devil from Ajakhan, whose battle-cry is 'not in the face', and who just might have had a threesome with a semi-goddess and a bound demoness. On their first date, no less. Damn, did I say that out loud...
__________________ "We're pimps and killers, but in a philanthropic way." -- Boyd, Dollhouse.
Awesome. But past tense? So he's at this point already gone? How sad, I was hoping for Muppet'y goodness.
I think he only summoned them once and that was for some pest control. Unfortunately, his tactical sense was more appropriate for the madman as his other major contribution to combat was casting "Stinking Cloud".
Between US and Lord Kenji. When he was cut off and surrounded by about 8 acolytes casting "Sound Burst" at him..
Then refusing to dismiss it...
__________________ "We are all Individuals! They chanted in unison...
Awesome. But past tense? So he's at this point already gone? How sad, I was hoping for Muppet'y goodness.
He's present for the next few installments, at least.
And my own new character, Edouard, was a Druid/Rogue/Assassin...but not what you might think. He was a professional, so he was. And entirely respectable, at that.
But don't worry. He was replaced by Meiji, played by a shadowy figure known as shilsen around here, another foreign devil from Ajakhan, whose battle-cry is 'not in the face', and who just might have had a threesome with a semi-goddess and a bound demoness. On their first date, no less. Damn, did I say that out loud...
Bastard - you just like taunting me because even I can't remember if it was good for me too!
Note to self: Borrow flaming hat and vegetative boots for next date.
__________________ shilsen is broken - Crothian (and this is why)
My Eberron Story Hour. Updated November 12. Almost at the climax!
That player dropped out of the campaign soon after. I'd like to think I drove him away with my particular take on D&D, but thats probably giving myself too much credit. Scheduling issues are the more likely reason.
But don't worry. He was replaced by Meiji, played by a shadowy figure known as shilsen around here, another foreign devil from Ajakhan, whose battle-cry is 'not in the face', and who just might have had a threesome with a semi-goddess and a bound demoness. On their first date, no less. Damn, did I say that out loud...
But... Muppets! *goes to cry himself to sleep over the lack of muppets-from-behind-the-fringe-of-sanity in D&D*
Only if you agree to serve as the punching bag while I'm in japan.
I would never presume to try to do that. You can't replace perfection - in this case, Rackhir.
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The madman was really far more interesting. The Alienist was just a boring academic.
I don't get it. You should never be able to have "Alienist" and "boring" in the same sentence.
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Originally Posted by Mallus
He successfully intimidated a naval thug with a ball of yarn. I've never seen that done before... or since. Or, I suspect, ever again...
With that, however, the alienist probably had a tough act to top. Though Nameless (Rackhir's alienist in my Eberron game) has managed to intimidate - and nauseate - people with a bowl of tentacle soup, or even a reference thereof.
__________________ shilsen is broken - Crothian (and this is why)
My Eberron Story Hour. Updated November 12. Almost at the climax!
The regulars were there, of course, slumped in various dark corners of the tavern. It's remarkable, really, how many dark corners the place has.
Gerard DeFountaine was making a token effort of polishing the bartop, succeeding only at burnishing the topmost layer of grime to a high sheen. He looked up as the door opened, letting in a weak beam of sunlight that almost seemed to recoil from the squalor thus revealed. A man followed it in, resplendent in a grimy scarlet greatcoat, his clothing streaked and spotted with filth.
"Edouard," the barkeep called, "Good to see you, man!"
"And Duchess," he added, his face falling, as a mastiff-sized rat trotted in behind the ratcatcher. "Can't forget Duchess," he said mournfully.
Edouard Finké doffed his hat, revealing a head largely bereft of hair, and nodded in greeting. "Give us the usual, Gerard. Both of us, if you'd be so kind."
"Whisky it is, then. And...ah...has Duchess refined her tastes at all?"
" 'fraid not," Edoaurd replied as he seated himself at the bar, "You're a creature of habit, ain'tcha girl?"
The rat leapt atop the bar, tail lashing, and snarled at the barkeep.
"Gin and milk it is, then," Gerard muttered, filling a bowl. "Bloody disgusting, that. Sin against man and nature."
"But it's been a while, mate," he continued, "Not since that monumental piss-up, the night after you killed Black Peter!"
"Black Peter," the other man sighed. "Now there was a rat's rat, and no mistake. Almost miss him some days, I do. Takes all the challenge out of ratcatching, him being gone."
Gerard chuckled. "Well, I don't miss him, mate. None of us do. No more baby-eating for that bastard, eh?" He leaned forward, lowering his voice a bit. "Did you do it, then? Like you promised?"
"That I did, me friend. Take a look." Edouard opened his coat, revealing a cuirass of black leather. "Black Peter's own hide, and may it do me more good than it did him."
"It's a shame, in a way, though," Gerard mused. "Oh, to be sure, he was a murderous beast. But I've never heard a better poet."
"Aye," Edouard nodded. "That rat could write one hell of a sonnet, he could. And his limericks? None finer."
"Limericks? Never knew Black Peter recited limericks, Edouard. Seems...beneath him, somehow. Too low-brow for him, I should think."
"Not many did know. Only his victims, and it was the last thing they ever heard."
"But how do you...."
"He was a fine poet, sure. But too damned arrogant for his own good. Thought he had me finished, and didn't think Duchess was any kind of a threat, her bein' his own kin and all."
He reached out, scratching the enormous beast behind her ears. "Last mistake he ever made, eh darlin'?"
Duchess arched her back, and rumbled with pleasure. Gerard, with difficulty, restrained another shudder.
"Again," Edouard sighed, finishing his drink. "Been a long damned night, it has."
Gerard poured, silently staring at the ratcatcher. "No offense," he offered after a moment, "But you look like hell, Edouard."
Finké nodded, wearily. "I feel like I been shot at and missed, then s--t at and hit, you know?"
Gerard nodded, a look of relief on his face. "I wasn't going to mention the smell," he began, "But...."
"I spent the evening," Edouard interrupted, "In the company of the Four Crazy Bastards."
The tavern went still. "Go on," exclaimed Gerard. "You're pullin' me leg, right? The Four Crazy Bastards? You?"
"Jokin'? Ha. Only wish I was, me friend. Wish I was...."
"What, all of them?"
Staring into his glass, Edoaurd shook his head. "No, just two of them, and that was enough. The Pretty Man, and the Bloody Archer."
"Is it true," asked a voice from the corner of the room, "That he dyes his clothes in the blood of his victims?"
The ratcatcher considered that for a moment. "Could be," Edouard concluded, sagely. "Could be, indeed."
Gerard filled another glass, almost eagerly. "What about the others? The Alchemist, with his demon cat? And..." he shuddered, helplessly, "The Pudding Man?"
Edouard winced. "No, sir, never saw him. And thank the saints for that! He killed a man with nothin' but a ball of yarn, he did, and I've no desire to look into the eyes of a man who could do that."
He leaned back and sighed, his keen eyes taking in the dozen figures that had moved close to the bar. "It's a hell of a story, it is," he observes. "But talkin's thirsty work, innit?"
A Rukh-Khazaa, his horn broken off short, pushed a coin across the bar. "Give him another," he rasped. "And the rat, too."
"Obliged," the ratchatcher said cheerily. He considered for a moment, and then nodded to himself.
Staring into his glass, Edoaurd shook his head. "No, just two of them, and that was enough. The Pretty Man, and the Bloody Archer."
"Is it true," asked a voice from the corner of the room, "That he dyes his clothes in the blood of his victims?"
This is base slander. Rackhir is frequently covered in blood yes. But it's his own. I think he's been beaten within an inch of his life in each of the last 3 combats. I'm thinking of changing his name to "Pinyates" since most of the foes in the campaign seem convinced he's full of candy if they can only break him open.
This adventure coming up is our longest night.
It lasted something like 6 sessions or so, saw 3 new characters introduced, two of them leave and due to scheduling problems (Mallus the DM had a big project at work) something on the order of 3-4 months real time.
__________________ "We are all Individuals! They chanted in unison...
It lasted something like 6 sessions or so, saw 3 new characters introduced...
Five sessions, starting 06/07/2005 and ending 9/27/2005. Representing a single day in the lives of the Four Crazy Bastards (you should get business cards made, you really should).
FYI, their titles were --yes, I name every adventure, its helps get me in the mood--
The Incredibly Sad Story of Innocent Calliope and Her Heartless Legal Guardian, the Pirate.
Is There Life on Mars?, or Assassin Fancy.
Please Don’t Feed the Chuul, or Footloose and Fancy-Free.
Hello Kitty, or Flight of Fancy.
Attack the Cat-Station, or Le Maison Chatons: part deux.
__________________ "We're pimps and killers, but in a philanthropic way." -- Boyd, Dollhouse.
This is base slander. Rackhir is frequently covered in blood yes. But it's his own. I think he's been beaten within an inch of his life in each of the last 3 combats. I'm thinking of changing his name to "Pinyates" since most of the foes in the campaign seem convinced he's full of candy if they can only break him open.
Heck, he was beaten a few inches past his life in the last session. Much as I enjoy making Rackhir's life miserable IC (and a fair bit OOC), I have to say that I've never seen a PC who gets so beaten up so consistently. And, more precisely, in comparison to the other PCs. There are PCs in my Eberron game who possibly take more punishment on a regular basis, but they spread the wealth, so to speak. Rackhir is by far the principal stockholder in beatings and other related pain in the CITY game.
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Originally Posted by Mallus
FYI, their titles were --yes, I name every adventure, its helps get me in the mood--
The Incredibly Sad Story of Innocent Calliope and Her Heartless Legal Guardian, the Pirate.
Is There Life on Mars?, or Assassin Fancy.
Please Don’t Feed the Chuul, or Footloose and Fancy-Free.
Hello Kitty, or Flight of Fancy.
Attack the Cat-Station, or Le Maison Chatons: part deux.
Is the last one where Meiji comes in? Or was that another Maison?
__________________ shilsen is broken - Crothian (and this is why)
My Eberron Story Hour. Updated November 12. Almost at the climax!
Rackhir is by far the principal stockholder in beatings and other related pain in the CITY game.
I'm working on diversifying the group's pain portfolio. But consider that Rackhir also does the most damage at this point, and usually dispenses with the outmoded concept of "cover". So I don't feel too bad...
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Is the last one where Meiji comes in? Or was that another Maison?
Meiji comes in between "Please Don't Feed the Chuul" and "Hello Kitty".
__________________ "We're pimps and killers, but in a philanthropic way." -- Boyd, Dollhouse.
- Crothian (and 
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