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!
“Did you ever wonder why our confessionals have the little slot at waist level?”
“No.”
Donatello Pazzi de Gallina, better known on the Street of Costs as the Right Reverend Don Magic Wand, known for his flashy robes, plentiful gold-seeming chains, and the sweetly-soft murmuring of his magic wand that coos at passersby from the vicinity of his belt, sighs loudly and leans back against the white plaster wall of his place of worship. It’s been a slow afternoon.
“The Chapel wasn’t always a temple to the Saint of Aces. It was originally consecrated to Belli, the Lord of Law, and doubled as a kind of municipal courthouse. In those days the confessionals were actually used to hear confessions, though why anyone ever used them is beyond me, since Belli only forgives crimes through punishment.”
Metierre, the so-called Deacon of Debt-Collection, idly checks his concealed knives with an absent brush of his hand.
“Back then, when a man gave testimony, he didn’t swear on a holy book or an idol; he swore on his sack. It’s like he was saying “If I’m lying may god strike me in the junk. The slot was there so the priest could see if a man was holding his stones.”
“What if it’s a lady?”
"If it was a lady there'd be no touching stones until there was a ring on her finger. Now…at some point the building fell into the well-manicured hands of the Church of Aja, Satisfaction Be Upon Her.” The Reverend makes a small, circular gesture with his forefinger. “They probably had no idea what a confessional was. To them, “confessing” means “gossiping”, usually while lying on silken pillows, eating laudanum-filled bonbons, and getting their feet rubbed by “eunuchs” who somehow managed to avoid The Big Snip.”
Metierre lets his boss talk, polishing the grease on his brass knuckles with additional grease from his thumb.
“Noting the placement of the slot, the Sisters of Desire finally hit on a novel usage that still
involved a sinner on one side of the booth and a person of the ecclesiastical persuasion on the other. In honor of the former owners they called ‘em “justice holes”. I don’t think the Church of Belli got the joke.”
A giant cupping a keg of ale in its mammoth hand ambles by. The walls of the Chapel of Love shake, which stops the Reverend’s reverie, but only for a moment.
“After the Sisters got run out of the neighborhood, the property changed hands a few more times before I bought it. Now you have to be careful when you buy in Narayan. It’s hard to find anything that didn’t once to belong to a church. So odds are you’re buying consecrated land. Sure, the seller’s supposed to deconsecrate it first, but all it takes is a little bribe to the Department of Licensing and Exorcism.”
“Hey boss….”
“Know that empty lot down on Mordant Circle? It used to be a barbarian cathedral dedicated to the Sky-Father. It got ransacked during the Troubles and then went condo. A year later it was blasted to flinders by lightening. Coincidence?”
“Boss….”
“Just to be on the safe side, the first week we were open I picked a wino’s pocket in the narthex and had the altar washed with the tears of a forty year old virgin.”
“Boss, I think I see someone.”
“Of course you do, man! That giant was 15 feet tall if he was an inch. Now…what was I was saying? Ah, you see, Narayan is a city of business. And what’s the oldest business in the world? That’s right, religion. So this city is just lousy with faith…”
“Boss, I think he’s invisible....” Metierre grabs for a knife.
“The bread you buy from a street vendor was likely baked in one of Kruetzel’s ovens by a man made of fire. Visit a moneychanger and you’ll feel the Invisible Hand of Mr. Spidergod pushing down on the scales. It’s getting so you can’t spill your seed on a harlot without having it glow as it’s transformed into grace by Aja’s miracle of the Trampsubstantiation...”
Someone puts the Reverend’s soul in a vice grip. He stops talking. Metierre tries to throw a knife. He’s stopped by an unseen glance.
The invisible man grabs the paralyzed Donatello Pazzi and hauls him, unceremoniously, into his church. Inside, Richard, the bravest of the so-called Altar Boys, tries to draw his blackjack and is frozen where he stands.
Nadir Akmad-Medhi, a Shirac mind-witch and Renuciate of the Miir Valley School, carries Donatello back to the confessional. Dropping the priest like a sack, he takes his magic wand. Donatello can only watch dumbly as the Shirac magician speaks a single word; “Salomalle.”
The succubus inside the wand manifests herself in a shower of longing and cold sparks. Nadir and Salomalle converse in a language that suggests rutting and other more violent mortifications of the flesh.
For the first time in his life the Reverend thinks, “I should have learned Infernal”.
Done with his business, Nadir sends the demon back into the wand. With a manner almost suggesting respect, he returns the wand to the supine priest and then departs.
We are coming up on the first character death in the campaign.
[start soothing music]As stress and nervous tension are now serious problems, I will reveal that the character does get better. However another character's upper arm will be brused as well and in order to preserve a sense of excitement and suspense, who's upper arm will not be revealed...[end soothing music]
__________________ "We are all Individuals! They chanted in unison...
So. There I stood, surrounded by foreigners of the most disreputable sort, watching a shamanistic greengrocer give orders to a musical giant.
I wish that I could claim that this was somehow unusual, but alas...this seems to be the sort of pattern into which my life has fallen. It is a tremendous burden to bear, being the sole voice of rationality when all around you is silk-clad madness...but I endure, stoically. Because that is the kind of man that Burne, is. An Erisian, an Alchemist. And, I daresay, a hero.
I REALLY DON'T NEED TO SAY ANYTHING HERE, DO I?
In any case, we had come to the monastary to look into this alleged "hidden chamber" that the child Calliope had spoken of. Daikon knew nothing of this, and had found no such place in his investigations of the grounds. He had, however, found that the spirits which he claimed haunted the building were oddly silent in some areas. Specifically, it was a part of the courtyard of the monastery that was this "dead zone".
The solution was clear. Destruction was the answer, as it so often is. As my lackies had done inside to speak with Daikon, I took it upon myself to deal with the situation. I suggested to the Tenor that he try moving the statue of the Late-and-not-in-the-least-lamented Bishop first and foremost, and then perhaps using it as a club to demolish the second statue. An act of chiefly symbolic value, and one that I found morally appropriate.
MORALS DON'T ENTER INTO IT. HE WAS MUTTERING "SMASHY-SMASHY!", AND RUBBING HIS HANDS TOGETHER.
The Tenor did, in fact, move the statue. Not without some effort, mind. And that was, perhaps, the last thing that went as I had planned. The movement of the statue cracked the masonry around its pedestal and revealed a small metal door, marked with some sort of
rune, flush with the paving-stones.
I called forth an order, and the foreign contingent rushed to my side.
HE SENT ME TO FETCH THEM. I SAID "PLEASE". BURNE NEVER DOES.
We considered the rune for a time. None of them had anything constructive to offer, although Daikon, Meiji, and Wu took the opportunity to once more display their ignorance of the workings of higher magic.
Kenji, on the other hand, had been staring at the sky. Possibly composing a poem, or considering a flower arrangement, or something similar. Just this once, his effeminate concerns proved useful, as he discerned (largely because of the dagger Squint) an invisible hawk circling high above the courtyard.
On the instant, I knew exactly what this meant. We'd seen this hawk before, and it could only mean that its master, this Nadir Medhi fellow, was somewhere nearby.
I was unsure why Nadir was spying on us in such a fashion. An interest in architecture, perhaps? A hunger for fresh radish? Curiosity over what would become of the place now that Xian was gone? But of course! Nadir was espying none other than Burne the Magnificent, eager to learn what my next marvelous creation would be! Probably in the hopes of being able to create some cheap crystal knockoff to sell in Marimbra.
OR, MAYBE, THE HIDDEN SHRINE THAT LITTLE CALLIOPE HAD TOLD US ABOUT? THE SAME CALLIOPE THAT NADIR HAD SPOKEN TO ONLY DAYS EARLIER? BURNE'S MIND WAS CONSUMED BY HIS GENIUS. ALL THAT'S LEFT IS A FINE GRAY ASH. THAT CAN BE FOUND ON THE BACK OF HIS COLLAR.
Whatever it was, he soon discovered more than he had bargained for....
Without hesitation, I promptly used the Engine to fire a cloud of Burne's Luminescent Motes into the air, revealing the previously invisible hawk.
And Nadir, clearly a coward, refused to present himself.
ACTUALLY, NADIR ASKED HIM IF THE SPELL WAS MEANT AS A CHALLENGE. BURNE SPENT THE NEXT SEVERAL MINUTES EVADING THE QUESTION, AND SEEKING THE EXACT DEFINITION OF "CHALLENGE" LEST HE TAKE THE HIMSELF TO ANYTHING DANGEROUS.
Nadir, curiously, took my simple working as an act of hostility, and demanded that I remove the effect.
Naturally, I refused.
IN OTHER WORDS, HE COULDN'T.
A moment later, I found an arrow lodged in my duodenum. It smarted a little.
YOU SHOULD HAVE HEARD HIM SHRIEK. IT WAS...GLORIOUS.
Oddly enough, it had been fired by Rackhir. Who, despite being both foreign and terribly accident-prone, is generally a reasonable sort of fellow. For, and I cannot stress this enough, a foreigner.
Before I could respond in kind, Meiji used his "arts" to paralyze the archer, who had apparently fallen under Nadir's control. Nadir, for his part, once more demanded that I remove the spell upon his witch-hawk.
Meiji chose this moment to begin taunting Nadir, for reasons that continue to elude me. Perhaps he was attempting to assert his masculinity; understandable enough, considering his mode of dress, but his timing was not well chosen.
He and Nadir continued to exchange threats for a space, and then I noticed a curious look upon the Tenor's face. The giant's normally pleasant expression had vanished, replaced by a vacant stare. He began raising his club over the helpless Rackhir's head, while Meiji continued to make crude comments about Nadir's mother.
I acted as quickly as I could, attempting to use Burne's Improved Vapors of Induced Somnolence to render the Tenor unconscious, but he proved able to shrug off the effects. The club came down, hard.
The resulting sound was most unpleasant. Have you ever seen a melon stuffed full of human cranial matter smashed to pieces by a 12 foot tall hack comedian? It was much like that, only moreso.
Rackhir dropped, unmoving.
The Tenor, horrified, burst into tears.
Meiji, for a wonder, fell silent.
Kenji leapt into much belated action, peering about with Squint in an attempt to find our assailant. Too little, too late -- Nadir, fearing my wrath, had already fled.
REALLY, I THINK THAT HE JUST FELT THAT HE'D PROVED HIS POINT.
We were left staring at his Rackhir's corpse, and I think that all of us were thinking the same thing at that moment: "What wonders can the incredible Burne produce using the pieces of this simple dead archer? Some hoodoo charm versus arrows? A steam-powered arbalest mounted on skeletal legs? A golem? Or some other automated killing-machine, of the sort employed by the better sort of iron-fisted tyrant? "
Tsk, tsk - you make it sound like it was all poor Meiji's fault. He just thought it was a waste of a good Dispel to remove the Glitterdust when it would expire in seconds anyway, and was explaining that politely to Nadir when the idiot overreacted.
__________________ shilsen is broken - Crothian (and this is why)
My Eberron Story Hour. Updated November 12. Almost at the climax!
Tsk, tsk - you make it sound like it was all poor Meiji's fault. He just thought it was a waste of a good Dispel to remove the Glitterdust when it would expire in seconds anyway, and was explaining that politely to Nadir when the idiot overreacted.
You really want to make me regret saving Meiji from that Succubus.
For those of you interested. This marks the point at which Rackhir became the punching bag for the creatures in the campaign. A lot of it comes down to the replacement of the Druid/Barbarian/Holy/Crazy Man and his penchant for recklessly charging into battle with "Not In the Face" Meiji.
That and Mallus's seeming inability to comprehend things like damage potential and lethality of things like a Giant making a coup-de-grace. This little incident marked the first time (though not the last) that I would be sitting at the table and hearing him say something to the effect of "Ohhh! Wow! That's going to hurt...."
__________________ "We are all Individuals! They chanted in unison...
You really want to make me regret saving Meiji from that Succubus.
You're telling me you don't already regret it? Obviously I've been slacking off!
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For those of you interested. This marks the point at which Rackhir became the punching bag for the creatures in the campaign. A lot of it comes down to the replacement of the Druid/Barbarian/Holy/Crazy Man and his penchant for recklessly charging into battle with "Not In the Face" Meiji.
Life sucks when you're a frontline archer, eh?
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That and Mallus's seeming inability to comprehend things like damage potential and lethality of things like a Giant making a coup-de-grace. This little incident marked the first time (though not the last) that I would be sitting at the table and hearing him say something to the effect of "Ohhh! Wow! That's going to hurt...."
I think the line more commonly is "Oh, so that's what it does?" And that line is, for those of us standing in the background, one of the more entertaining ones to hear from the DM. Especially since it usually prefaces some even more entertaining lines from you
__________________ shilsen is broken - Crothian (and this is why)
My Eberron Story Hour. Updated November 12. Almost at the climax!
She Can Make A Blind Man See, She Can Make A Dead Man... Better
So there was Rackhir, his corpse slowly cooling in the late morning air. The Tenor was still weeping fist-sized tears, broken in the alarming way only a sad man as large as a barn can be, and Kenji, stalking about the courtyard, showing as much emotion as I've ever seen from him. Which can be best described as some.
The Meiji fellow was...oh, I don't know. Painting his nails, perhaps. He did seem vaguely apologetic about getting the archer's spine compressed, but was rather less sorrowful than one would expect from a man who was responsible for the death of one of his own countrymen.
Foreigners. A sad, heartless bunch, who will no doubt be genuinely grateful when Eris conquers their lands at long last. We can civilize the Ajakhani, I'm certain of it. It will take fire, steel, phlogistonic munitions…
WHY DOES IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE PHLOGISTON?
…and stirringly patriotic music. And I intend to enjoy every last second of it.
I SHOULD MENTION BURNE WAS DEMONSTRATING HIS GRIEF BY SKETCHING A COMPLICATED-LOOKING HAT INTO THE DIRT WITH A STICK.
For my part, I was having an idea. Consideration of Rackhir's remains had triggered a cascade of thought, and had culminated in a moment of unparalleled brilliance. It needed time, and my workshop, in order to bring this idea to fruition...but when it was completed, I would be entirely safe from this Nadir fellow and his foul Shirac mind-magics.
ONE WOULD THINK THAT BEING BRAIN-DEAD WOULD BE PROTECTION ENOUGH.
Searing heat, you see, has a way of focusing the mind and.... No. Now is not the time. I shall explain matters anon, in the proper context. Until that moment arrives, rest assured that my brilliance had once again shown clear, even at this dark moment.
In the meantime, Rackhir remained dead. Fortunately, we were owed a rather substantial favor by the priestesses of Aja Opal Blossom for rescuing their sisters from the rapacious ministrations of the brown devil Polyneecheeans on the island of St. Tarte’s, and I -- for one -- was not shy about claiming it.
BURNE HAS NEVER BEEN DESCRIBED AS BASHFUL, THAT'S VERY TRUE.
At my direction, the corpse was wrapped into a handy tarpaulin and then bundled into a wagon. We set off for the temple of the Queen of Tarts, SBUH, talking quietly amongst ourselves, while Daikon stayed at the monastery and tried to calm the Tenor.
Have you ever gazed upon the high temple of Aja in Naryan? It is perhaps best captured by the unknown graffiti artist who painted these words upon its smoothly curving walls.
On Zanadu Street did Aja-san
A shapely pleasure-dome decree
Where concupiscent rivers ran
Through caverns pleasure-full to man
For a modest fee
BURNE HAS THE SOUL OF A POET. HE KEEPS IT IN A JAR OF FORMALDEYDE UNDER HIS BED, NEXT TO HIS OWN CONSCIENCE.
We were admitted to the temple without inordinate delay, and once the situation was explained to her, Tawny Portal, the former guardian of St. Tarte’s Bodice, agreed to help us by raising the archer from the dead.
In...ah...more ways than one. How can I explain this, I wonder, without exceeding the bounds of propriety and good taste?
NOW, AFTER THIS TIME, HE STARTS WORRYING ABOUT THAT? NEXT HE’LL BE EXPRESSING AN INTEREST IN FIRE SAFETY.
Let me, I suppose, be blunt about the situation. The Sisters of Aja Opal-Blossom do not only, as most religious sorts do, lay the dead the rest. In rare cases, they lay them to life. And Tawny proposed to just this for Rackhir, with the aid of the saint’s holy Bodice.
She asked if one of us could provide a bag or something so that she might avoid looking at Rackhir's crushed head...an unpleasant enough sight even when fully intact.
Meiji obliged, and used some of his mummery to turn the corpse invisible. The speed with which he made the offer makes one wonder if rendering a lover’s face unseen is a necessary courtship practice in his homeland, or one germane only to Meiji’s own love-life. And while we waited in the parlor, Tawny did her work. The conversation was, as I recall, strained and uncomfortable....
On Zanadu Street did Aja-san
A shapely pleasure-dome decree
Where concupiscent rivers ran
Through caverns pleasure-full to man
For a modest fee
*wipes away a tear*
That's beautiful, man! Just beautiful!
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Meiji obliged, and used some of his mummery to turn the corpse invisible. The speed with which he made the offer makes one wonder if rendering a lover’s face unseen is a necessary courtship practice in his homeland, or one germane only to Meiji’s own love-life.
Burne can be surprisingly perceptive sometimes.
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And while we waited in the parlor, Tawny did her work. The conversation was, as I recall, strained and uncomfortable....
Maybe for you guys. Meiji was listening at the door, making notes and trying to waylay passing priestesses and ask how he might join the order.
__________________ shilsen is broken - Crothian (and this is why)
My Eberron Story Hour. Updated November 12. Almost at the climax!
Rackhir emerged from making the "Priest with Two Backs" with Tawny Portal as red in face as he was in garb. I, cloaked as always in my own dignity, forbore to comment. While Meiji, as I recall, snickered in a decidedly foreign fashion, and made a variety of off-color comments about the binding of feet. Fueled by disappointment, I venture to guess, that the clergy of Aja Opal-Blossom had chosen not to gather him to their collective bosoms.
Metaphorical or otherwise.
I questioned Rackhir about his experiences following his unfortunate murder, and he professed ignorance as to what lay beyond the Great Veil. He admitted to feeling somewhat enervated by the situation, and a brief examination showed that some of his animus had indeed been drained away. He also professed to feeling sleepy, and wanted, of all things, a petite cigar of the kind favored by Yeti. Most likely due to the lingering after-effects of the Bodice's magic.
Having offered our gratitude, both of the intangible and of the material sort, we pried Meiji away from the priestesses and set out for the monastery. The little fellow was delighted with himself, virtually dancing with glee, because Tawny had professed her gratitude to him for rendering Rackhir's corpse invisible. In his eyes, this meant that she was in his debt. Priestess or no, I found myself fearing for her very soul.
At no point along the way did Rackhir speak to Meiji, or even acknowledge his presence, but his gaze...well. I never before knew that a glare could be such an eloquent method of expression. It spoke volumes, even though Meiji continued to burble on about trivialities all the while that Rackhir was looking daggers at him.
Or...ha!...looking arrows at him.
THE HILARITY NEVER STOPS.
Alas, matters had continued to progress in our absence. Upon arriving at the monastery, we found a drunken giant, a stupefied green-grocer, and a pile of rubble where a statue had once stood.
Oh, and a large hole, leading down into darkness. A threatening, unwholesome sort of thing, it gave off an almost palpable chill even in the bright sunlight that was flooding the courtyard. I was myself, entirely unafraid...
AS WOULD HAVE BEEN CLEAR TO ANYONE, DESPITE THE CHATTERING TEETH AND THE WHIMPERING.
...but I could clearly see the beads of sweat that sprung up upon Kenji's brow. We managed to bestir King Daikon, after some violence and effort, and he told us that shortly after we had left the Tenor had apparently gone mad, and furiously smashed the statue of the Bishop into flinders. No sooner had this been done than Daikon found himself paralyzed by an invisible assailant. No doubt that villainous violet-eyed Shirac, Nadir Akmad-Medhi...
BURNE'S COMMAND OF THE LANGUAGE...
...had returned to carry out his investigation of the hidden shrine!
...IS MATCHED ONLY BY HIS COMMAND OF THE OBVIOUS.
By use of certain of the Engine's lenses, I was able to ascertain that a trail of thaumic radiation did indeed cross the courtyard, and enter the opening. Only to emerge, and lead out of of the monastary gounds entirely.
What had he found in the darkness below? Well, I supposed we would have to find out. I, as the leader of this motley crew, chose Rackhir to lead the expedition....reasoning, naturally enough, that it was unlikely that his day could get any worse.
What had he found in the darkness below? Well, I supposed we would have to find out. I, as the leader of this motley crew, chose Rackhir to lead the expedition....reasoning, naturally enough, that it was unlikely that his day could get any worse.
With a word, I kindled luminescence upon a bolt, and fired it down into the darkness. It provided enough light to allow us to see that there was a chamber some fifteen feet below the surface of the courtyard, and that it extended some distance beyond our sight. We could see nothing moving, and heard no sounds at all.
"Probably a trap," I thought to myself. At my order, Rackhir leaped to obey, and rapidly descended into the pit...
HE VOLUNTEERED, ACTUALLY. DEEP, DARK PIT, PROBABLY FILLED WITH MONSTERS? OR LISTENING TO BURNE? THE CHOICE IS PAINFULLY CLEAR.
...followed, with a sniff of disdain, by Kenji. Meiji and Myself took up positions at the opening, prepared to offer assistance with our various arts. Or hobby, really, in Meiji's case.
The screaming began mere moments later. And it was not coming, for a change, from either Rackhir or Kenji. A...thing came floating up the shaft; an insubstantial creature the size and proportions of a child. It was wailing, and babbling, and seemed most distressed...and I, my heart taken by pity, could not help but shed a sympathetic tear.
IT HYPNOTIZED HIM. NOT THAT STUPIFYING BURNE IS ANY GREAT FEAT.
So overcome with emotion, I lost track of matters for a few moments. Apparently other, more substantial child-corpses, set upon the Ajikhani below, and were met by stiff resistance. Meiji, no doubt, clapped his hands and squealed with glee at the sight.
Abraxis, for some bizarre reason, chose this moment to make an attack upon my person. Cranial adjustments were clearly needed, and to the best of my recollection I made them shortly therafter, with the aid of a sledgehammer.
I WAS TRYING TO ROUSE HIM FROM HIS STUPOR. IN HOPES OF HIS ACTUALLY BEING USEFUL FOR A CHANGE. NEXT TIME, I'LL JUST LET HIS SOUL GET EATEN. SEE IF I CARE.
When I came to myself again, I found that Kenji and Rackhir were beset by several foes, including one who appeared to be thrusting his hand directly into Rackhir's chest. I used the Engine to generate a bolt of force, which drove the thing back long enough for the archer to catch his breath.
At this point, with an incantation and a wholly unneccessary flourish of his hands, Meiji conjured forth a wall of fire Not a patch on the sort of thing I could produce, were I so inclined. Pale, colorless flames, barely hot enough to toast a piece of bread...and not even a hint of sulphur! Indeed, I though for a moment that I smelled the perfume of cherry blossoms upon the air.
Effeminate frippery, and typical of the sort of decadent nonsense that will someday bring the Ajikhani empire crashing down.
Meiji's shoddy wall divided the chamber more or less in half, with the foe packed in tightly around his two countrymen. As this left them without room to maneuver, and with the corprophages surrounding them all sides, this seemed to me to be a rather odd tactic to adopt.
And then I realized, upon the instant, his plan. Clearly, he wished to kill both Kenji and Rackhir, for reasons all his own. I could not deny that his goals were indeed noble, surprisingly so, but his tactical sense was clearly lacking. Once the two of them were dead, who would be left for these living corpses to batten upon? Only myself and Meiji. I toyed for a moment with the idea of applying a boot to his backside, and then using an
application of Burne's Resinous Agglutination to seal the entrance, but abandoned the scheme with some reluctance.
Barbaric and foolish though these foreign devils may be, they still have some uses. And if they were to fall victim to such foes as these, then their corpses would likely be devoured before I could discover said uses....
The point was soon rendered moot, however. Rackhir, rapidly followed by the skirted swordsman, dove through the flames and vanished from our sight. I could not withhold a snort of disdain; had these been flames of my creation, both of them would have been burnt to cinders upon the instant. Demonstrating the truth of this, I used Burne's Incandescent Arc to finish off a few of the undead horrors myself, while encouraging Meiji to descend and aid his countrymen. The coward, naturally, declined.
I heard the sounds of battle, and yelps of pain, coming from behind the curtain of flame. More clearly than anything else, I could hear a stream of steady curses in Rackhir's voice. I could not understand his barbaric tongue, but Meiji assumed a blush of pride at this invective. He'll wake up looking like a porcupine some morning soon, I don't doubt.
With a reluctant sigh, he at last let the flames gutter out. We could then see the others, still smoldering a little, finishing off the remaining corpses. One of the insubstantial things evaded them, however, and flew up the shaft. As Meiji gibbered in terror, I used another bolt of force to disperse the thing once and for all.
As I admired my handiwork, Meiji eagerly climbed down the ladder into the chamber below. And as I prepared to join him, I could not help but pause as I heard him cry out, in a voice filled with delight, "Oooh, cake!"
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