[Humour] The Adventures of the A-Team - Story 3?? Aussie posters help please!
Inez Hull
First Post
V: An Enlightening Experience
One hour later.
“This must be close to it. You can still see the scorch marks,” Virgil said as the group peered down yet another corridor. At the end of this passage a pair of smoke-blackened double doors hung loosely on shattered hinges. From the chamber beyond came a strange dolorous chanting.
“OM NOMINE PADUA, OM NOMJNE PADUA, OM NOMINE PADUA”
“Come on then,” said Mango. “Let’s get it over with.”
“No listen,” said Shana. “I have plan!”
“Oooooh,” went the rest of the group, unimpressed.
“I remember the last time we were here. There’s a little minstrel’s gallery at the back,” Shana explained. “if Dankwart can find the stairs to it, I can sneak up there. Then while you guys make a diversion at the doorway I’ll drop a rope and snatch Zeek. Then Bob’s your uncle.”
“Me like,” snorted Dankwart.
“Sounds fine to me,” Wilson agreed.
“Off you go then, Shana,” Mango urged.
“No he’s not,” said Virgil confused.
The group ignored this remark. Once again, Dankwart miraculously revealed a secret passage, this one leading to a stairway heading upwards. “Follow me,” he called to Shana.
The pair scurried off whilst the Virgil, Mango and Wilson strolled into the doorway to the great chamber only to be confronted by a scene of complete pandemonium.
In a vast vaulted chamber, ores gambolled around a central altar composed of rotting corpses and broken bones. Above the altar a tattered banner hung with an ancient name scrawled in blood. On the altar lay a young girl with a charcoaled foot, the artifact, resting on her tummy. Ragnurk, the shaman, was standing over the girl, his arms waving rhythmically to conduct the chant of the gathered congregation. Beside him stood Abel Zeek, his chubby face creased in a beatific smile, waving the dishevelled remains of a dove’s feather in time to the chanting. ‘One Host to Attend Him.’
“ZEEK!” bellowed Virgil. “What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing?!”
Silence. The chanting ceased abruptly. A room full of piggy faces turned to the trio in the doorway.
“Well, you’ve got their attention, Virgil. Now what?”
Zeek waved. “Hi, guys. What kept you?”
“What is going on here, Zeek?” asked Wilson.
“I’m doing a mass conversion,” Zeek bubbled. “I explained all the benefits; you know, the everlasting peace and harmony, the miracles, the snappy habits, pension plan and all that stuff and they got all excited and began singing and dancing salutations to Shannafnia.”
The A-Team could hardly believe their eyes and ears, Abel Zeek had never before even accomplished a good sermon let alone a mass conversion.
“Just one question, Zeek me boy,” Wilson frowned, finally gathering his wits, “why the human sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice?” asked Zeek.
“Sacrifice?” asked the maiden, with a startled look.
“No, no,” smiled Zeek reassuringly. “Marion’s not a sacrifice. She offered to step in as a love maiden priestess role. A bit of a focus for the lads.”
The orcs grinned wolfishly. Ragnurk moved from behind the altar with his Honour Guard in close attendance.
“Ere’ you didn’t mention no sacrifice,” Marion swung her feet to the floor, spilling the charred foot to the ground.
Meanwhile Virgil, who was looking out for Shana, nudged Wilson. “See that name above the altar? Isn’t that...,”
Wilson hastily clamped a hand over the paladin’s mouth. “No-one kill anyone, or so much as breathe that name or it will act as a summoning focus. Remember the fortune cookie warning...,”
Above the A-Team, hunched on his huge throne, surrounded by Sacred Manuals and ivory die, looking down on his finely developed denouement scene, the Chucker of Polygons scowled, miffed that Wilson had actually worked out the plot.
Mango nodded grimly. “‘Nuff said.”
Meanwhile, Ragnurk was feeling a bit left out. He roughly thrust the girl back on the altar and barked orders to his troops, “Lily-livers wanem deadum!”
“Ere, steady on boys,” Marion said indignantly. “What happened to the bit about me being a love goddess?”
“Yes quite,” blushed Zeek. “We’ll be getting to that soon enough.”
Ragnurk’s orcs lowered spears and advanced toward the A-Team trio whilst the shaman raised his hands to cast a spell.
Up above the chamber, in a balcony overlooking the altar Shana winked at Dankwart. “Perfect. Time to grab Zeek. Drop him a rope.”
Dankwart nodded and did so.
Shana looked disbelievingly at the half-orc. “It would have helped if you’d held onto one end,” she ground out.
Dankwart smiled enigmatically.
Ragnurk was really working himself up into a frenzy now, rubbing a glass rod with a dead rat and mumbling archaically.
“He’s gonna throw a spell,” panicked Mango. “Let’s withdraw and reassess the plan!”
“Wouldn’t worry,” said Wilson oozing misbegotten confidence. “Sticks to snakes. The only spell a shaman knows. Any minute now a bunch of twigs will turn into a bunch or wriggling reptiles and we’re supposed to run howling in fear. Pathetic I call it.”
“Are you sure?” Mango didn’t sound convinced.
“Get in there and dice ‘em. Have I ever led you astray?”
Virgil and Mango drew their swords, pausing a moment to give Wilson a scathing look at that last remark.
“Onward for Truth, Loyalty and Honour!” Virgil strode into the pack of advancing orcs. Mango did likewise, chuffed as the ravening horde parted like the Red Sea before him.
“About time I was shown a bit of respect,” he puffed.
The orc guard parted to reveal Ragnurk finishing his spell.
“Give it away, bucko!” smirked Mango. “A couple of snakes aren’t gonna touch my armour class.”
Ragnurk completed his spell with what witnesses afterwards claimed sounded like, “Eat this, Paleface!” and a thin bolt of bright light snaked slowly from his palm. It seemed to be sniffing the air in the chamber, seeking out something...
“Sure this is sticks to snake?” whispered Mango hoarsely.
Wilson squinted. Wilson looked thoughtful. Wilson shook his head. Wilson struggled to clear his rapidly drying throat. “Ch ch . chain...,” he began.
Mango wrinkled his nose. “Chain snakes?”
Leaning over the balcony’s edge, Shana held out a hand aid called “Zeek!” at exactly the wrong moment. A thin streak of white hot lightning caught her fair in the cleavage.
“Yeow!” she squealed and fell back.
“..Llightning!” yelled Wilson, his face drained of all colour.
Mango looked relieved. “Well he can’t have more than one lightning bolt. Let’s get him!”
Wilson chose rather than to explain, to sprint back into the corridor shaking his head.
“Problem?” asked Virgil, watching Wilson scarper, then staggered backward as the thin bolt arced from the minstrel’s gallery, speared across the chamber and pounded into his breast plate, electrifying him. “Yikes!”
“Well you don’t see that happen every day?” said Mango, still unperturbed. Again the bolt leapt, blasting a tidy hole in Mango’s annour, and setting his teeth a-chattering. “Aaargh!”
Wilson breathed heavily as he threw his back against the corridor wall. “Made it,” he sighed. He waited a moment, then as the screams subsided he chanced a look inside the room. It didn’t take more than a millionth of a second to register that he’d made a big mistake as the angry bolt of lightning arced from Mango’s prostrate form and caught him fair between the eyes. Toppling him to the floor.
Zeek looked around, bewildered. “Does this mean the conversion’s over?”
From above Dankwart smiled a lopsided grin and spat a sleep dart in Zeek’s chubby back
One hour later.
“This must be close to it. You can still see the scorch marks,” Virgil said as the group peered down yet another corridor. At the end of this passage a pair of smoke-blackened double doors hung loosely on shattered hinges. From the chamber beyond came a strange dolorous chanting.
“OM NOMINE PADUA, OM NOMJNE PADUA, OM NOMINE PADUA”
“Come on then,” said Mango. “Let’s get it over with.”
“No listen,” said Shana. “I have plan!”
“Oooooh,” went the rest of the group, unimpressed.
“I remember the last time we were here. There’s a little minstrel’s gallery at the back,” Shana explained. “if Dankwart can find the stairs to it, I can sneak up there. Then while you guys make a diversion at the doorway I’ll drop a rope and snatch Zeek. Then Bob’s your uncle.”
“Me like,” snorted Dankwart.
“Sounds fine to me,” Wilson agreed.
“Off you go then, Shana,” Mango urged.
“No he’s not,” said Virgil confused.
The group ignored this remark. Once again, Dankwart miraculously revealed a secret passage, this one leading to a stairway heading upwards. “Follow me,” he called to Shana.
The pair scurried off whilst the Virgil, Mango and Wilson strolled into the doorway to the great chamber only to be confronted by a scene of complete pandemonium.
In a vast vaulted chamber, ores gambolled around a central altar composed of rotting corpses and broken bones. Above the altar a tattered banner hung with an ancient name scrawled in blood. On the altar lay a young girl with a charcoaled foot, the artifact, resting on her tummy. Ragnurk, the shaman, was standing over the girl, his arms waving rhythmically to conduct the chant of the gathered congregation. Beside him stood Abel Zeek, his chubby face creased in a beatific smile, waving the dishevelled remains of a dove’s feather in time to the chanting. ‘One Host to Attend Him.’
“ZEEK!” bellowed Virgil. “What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing?!”
Silence. The chanting ceased abruptly. A room full of piggy faces turned to the trio in the doorway.
“Well, you’ve got their attention, Virgil. Now what?”
Zeek waved. “Hi, guys. What kept you?”
“What is going on here, Zeek?” asked Wilson.
“I’m doing a mass conversion,” Zeek bubbled. “I explained all the benefits; you know, the everlasting peace and harmony, the miracles, the snappy habits, pension plan and all that stuff and they got all excited and began singing and dancing salutations to Shannafnia.”
The A-Team could hardly believe their eyes and ears, Abel Zeek had never before even accomplished a good sermon let alone a mass conversion.
“Just one question, Zeek me boy,” Wilson frowned, finally gathering his wits, “why the human sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice?” asked Zeek.
“Sacrifice?” asked the maiden, with a startled look.
“No, no,” smiled Zeek reassuringly. “Marion’s not a sacrifice. She offered to step in as a love maiden priestess role. A bit of a focus for the lads.”
The orcs grinned wolfishly. Ragnurk moved from behind the altar with his Honour Guard in close attendance.
“Ere’ you didn’t mention no sacrifice,” Marion swung her feet to the floor, spilling the charred foot to the ground.
Meanwhile Virgil, who was looking out for Shana, nudged Wilson. “See that name above the altar? Isn’t that...,”
Wilson hastily clamped a hand over the paladin’s mouth. “No-one kill anyone, or so much as breathe that name or it will act as a summoning focus. Remember the fortune cookie warning...,”
Above the A-Team, hunched on his huge throne, surrounded by Sacred Manuals and ivory die, looking down on his finely developed denouement scene, the Chucker of Polygons scowled, miffed that Wilson had actually worked out the plot.
Mango nodded grimly. “‘Nuff said.”
Meanwhile, Ragnurk was feeling a bit left out. He roughly thrust the girl back on the altar and barked orders to his troops, “Lily-livers wanem deadum!”
“Ere, steady on boys,” Marion said indignantly. “What happened to the bit about me being a love goddess?”
“Yes quite,” blushed Zeek. “We’ll be getting to that soon enough.”
Ragnurk’s orcs lowered spears and advanced toward the A-Team trio whilst the shaman raised his hands to cast a spell.
Up above the chamber, in a balcony overlooking the altar Shana winked at Dankwart. “Perfect. Time to grab Zeek. Drop him a rope.”
Dankwart nodded and did so.
Shana looked disbelievingly at the half-orc. “It would have helped if you’d held onto one end,” she ground out.
Dankwart smiled enigmatically.
Ragnurk was really working himself up into a frenzy now, rubbing a glass rod with a dead rat and mumbling archaically.
“He’s gonna throw a spell,” panicked Mango. “Let’s withdraw and reassess the plan!”
“Wouldn’t worry,” said Wilson oozing misbegotten confidence. “Sticks to snakes. The only spell a shaman knows. Any minute now a bunch of twigs will turn into a bunch or wriggling reptiles and we’re supposed to run howling in fear. Pathetic I call it.”
“Are you sure?” Mango didn’t sound convinced.
“Get in there and dice ‘em. Have I ever led you astray?”
Virgil and Mango drew their swords, pausing a moment to give Wilson a scathing look at that last remark.
“Onward for Truth, Loyalty and Honour!” Virgil strode into the pack of advancing orcs. Mango did likewise, chuffed as the ravening horde parted like the Red Sea before him.
“About time I was shown a bit of respect,” he puffed.
The orc guard parted to reveal Ragnurk finishing his spell.
“Give it away, bucko!” smirked Mango. “A couple of snakes aren’t gonna touch my armour class.”
Ragnurk completed his spell with what witnesses afterwards claimed sounded like, “Eat this, Paleface!” and a thin bolt of bright light snaked slowly from his palm. It seemed to be sniffing the air in the chamber, seeking out something...
“Sure this is sticks to snake?” whispered Mango hoarsely.
Wilson squinted. Wilson looked thoughtful. Wilson shook his head. Wilson struggled to clear his rapidly drying throat. “Ch ch . chain...,” he began.
Mango wrinkled his nose. “Chain snakes?”
Leaning over the balcony’s edge, Shana held out a hand aid called “Zeek!” at exactly the wrong moment. A thin streak of white hot lightning caught her fair in the cleavage.
“Yeow!” she squealed and fell back.
“..Llightning!” yelled Wilson, his face drained of all colour.
Mango looked relieved. “Well he can’t have more than one lightning bolt. Let’s get him!”
Wilson chose rather than to explain, to sprint back into the corridor shaking his head.
“Problem?” asked Virgil, watching Wilson scarper, then staggered backward as the thin bolt arced from the minstrel’s gallery, speared across the chamber and pounded into his breast plate, electrifying him. “Yikes!”
“Well you don’t see that happen every day?” said Mango, still unperturbed. Again the bolt leapt, blasting a tidy hole in Mango’s annour, and setting his teeth a-chattering. “Aaargh!”
Wilson breathed heavily as he threw his back against the corridor wall. “Made it,” he sighed. He waited a moment, then as the screams subsided he chanced a look inside the room. It didn’t take more than a millionth of a second to register that he’d made a big mistake as the angry bolt of lightning arced from Mango’s prostrate form and caught him fair between the eyes. Toppling him to the floor.
Zeek looked around, bewildered. “Does this mean the conversion’s over?”
From above Dankwart smiled a lopsided grin and spat a sleep dart in Zeek’s chubby back
Inez Hull
First Post
VI: “Up yours, Caraxus!”
The player characters were stripped of their gear, bound tightly and hung over a huge pile of wood faggots. All around them, the hated orcish scum danced and jeered at the finest adventuring team the world had ever known. To one side, Dankwart stood in deep conversation with Ragnurk and Squelbum, occasionally turning to laugh at the A-Team.
“Told you Dankwart was trouble,” Wilson spat, scowling at the treacherous half-orc.”
“You can talk,” choked Mango. “‘Sticks to snakes’ he said, ‘All they know’, he said. Yeah, right on, Wilson.”
Wilson giggled.
“Now what’s so bloody funny?” Mango growled.
“Have you seen yourself? Plus five this, magic armour that! Have you ever seen yourself without your gear on?”
The A-Team couldn’t help but smile. Mango, divorced of the armour and Mighty Mitts of Mauling he’d inhabited as long as any of them could remember looked like an anorexic halfling. The blonde warrior snorted and fell silent.
Orcs bearing lighted brands approached to ignite the bonfire beneath the A-Team and Dankwart weasled forward. “It seems the brothers have you in a bit of a jam,” he grinned.
“I think I speak for all of us when I say - go to Hell!” Shana spat.
Mango coughed. “Er, maybe not all. ‘Live and let live’ is my motto.”
“Well that’s all very nice. But I’m afraid we’ve come too far for that. You see, you have mocked He Who Must Not Be Mocked and now you will pay with your lives! A slow and painful death will feed his return,” Dankwart gloated.
“Had worse,” retorted Virgil, defiantly.
“Bah!” Dankwart snorted and skulked away. The orcs tossed on the burning brands.
“That’s it then,” said Wilson as the faggots began to smoulder. “Cybermech next week?”
“Do not despair, friends. I will pray for divine intervention. Shannafria will save us!” Zeek piped up.
The group laughed grimly. “This should be good.”
“We must all join in. I’ll sing the invocation, you guys join in on the chorus.”
Zeek began to loudly sing ajaunty little song; “Shan-naf-ria, We adore you, Come on down, You gorgeous goddess.”
The disconsolate band joined in less enthusiastically. Ragnurk looked at Dankwart, more than a little confused.
“These guys really are crazy,” puzzled the shaman. “Catchy tune though.” He began to hum and the other orcs were coming in on the chorus;
“Come on down, You gorgeous goddess.”
Soon the whole room was singing along. Dankwart listened carefully, sudden realisation hitting him. “Stop!” he cried, but too late.
In the centre of the room, a shimmering light appeared, slowly taking the lovely form of a stunningly shaped female dressed in a body stocking and thigh-high boots, a dove’s feather pendant around her neck. The orcs, Ragnurk, Dankwart and the A-Team all stood in silent awe, their mouths slack-jawed open. All except Zeek who beamed with pride.
“Welcome, my Shining Mistress,” Zeek spoke with tears streaming down his cheeks, “You have come to our rescue.”
Mango wolf-whistled.
“Rescue,” Shannafnia’ s husky voice sounded distant, insubstantial. The sexy goddess pirouetted, surveying the chamber full of unwashed swine with growing disdain. “I have come to glory in the new flock you have gathered for me.”
Ragnurk, recovering his senses, marched forward angrily. “Listen up! I don’t know who you are, but you’re interrupting our sacrifice and summoning. Bugger off!”
Shannafnia looked astonished; she turned to her only living believer. “Zeek, is this not my new congregation?”
“Not quite, milady, but I’m working on it,” Zeek explained through the increasingly thick column of smoke.
“Have you failed me again, Zeek?” Shannafnia folded her bangle strewn arms and looked cross at her smouldering cleric.
“But...,” Zeek spluttered, flames wreathing his fat form.
“No more excuses,” Shannafria pouted. “You’ll just have to work this one out yourself. I’m off to play Strip Canasta with the boys from Asgard. Catch ya.”
The vision of loveliness vanished.
“Right then,” said Ragnurk, “can we get on with it now?”
“I have failed her,” Zeek mumbled forlornly.
“Stuff her!” Wilson grumbled. “It’s us that needs a little hand right now.”
Suddenly Wilson’s wish came true.
Swinging across the room from a handily placed chandelier cord came a halfling of small stature but with a huge heart and a terminally ugly face.
“TA-DA!” yelled Spud, triumphantly. “A little hand is at hand!” The heroic halfling swung past the shocked A-Team, cutting their bonds with a deft backhand swipe of his dagger.
The A-Team fell in a dishevelled heap, rolling onto the floor away from the fire and bowling over a shocked Ragnurk.
“But how?” cried the Team.
Mango wasted no time in grabbing the fallen shaman by the neck and shaking him fiercely. “Chain bloody lightning,” the sorely aggrieved warrior muttered.
“But where?” cried the Team at Spud.
Mango punched Ragnurk in the face, repeatedly, with extreme prejudice to the shaman’ s continued well-being.
“Aha!” laughed Spud, the diminutive hero of the moment.
“After the last debacle I was washed away with the garbage, only to emerge in Sherdale Forest where I was nurtured by a Lost Tribe of Pygmies until destiny called me to aid you in your hour of greatest need!”
Ragnurk was falling to bits.
“Pygmies?” asked Wilson.
Mango jumped up and down, stamping Ragnurk into the flagstones.
“Well actually,” Spud confided, “I just laid low in the library. I was on my way to the kitchen when I saw you messing about in here. But I thought the other story would read better!”
Mango kicked shaman broken bits into the air. “Fair enough,” said Wilson. “But what about this rabid horde?”
“Chain that, bucko!” Mango slapped his hands together, satisfied at a job well done. There was nothing the bulky fighter hated more than missing his saving throw.
“Solved!” called Spud in his new hero type voice. “At the rear of the balcony, a secret passage!” he said opening it with a stylish flourish.
“Let’s go,” cried Sham, clambering up the chandelier cord.
The rest of the A-Team followed as the orcs looked to Ragnurk for guidance. But Ragnurk was no more; the orc shaman was tattered and torn, bruised and bashed - in fact he was dead. ‘One Life to Feed.’ An ominous stirring of darkness mingled with sulphurous smoke gathered around his corpse.
Dankwart took his cue and surreptitiously exited the room and the adventure to ‘live to fight another day’.
On the balcony, before leaving the chamber, Virgil turned to grin broadly at the befuddled horde of orcs below.
“Oh no,” said Wilson. “Do we really need a speech now?”
Virgil snorted haughtily and turned to his public. “Once again the mighty A-Team has triumphed...,”
Mango grabbed the paladin roughly and dragged him towards the exit. “Not now, Virgil.”
But Virgil could not resist one last word. “And up yours, Caraxus!”
‘One Name to Summon.’
The departing A-Team stopped in its tracks, and turned in utter disbelief to stare at Virgil. The cookie was crumbling.
The yellow smoke around Ragnurk’ s corpse began to form into a thick column; lightning sparked and crackled within it. The band stood on the balcony and watched in horror as the very fabric of the multiverse ripped open, and through the black tear, demon after demon spilled into the chamber, squashing orcs as they fought for floor space. Finally out stepped Caraxus, First Lord of All Demon. His mighty trunk drank deep of the air, his ears rippled hearing every sound. The A-Team heaved a collective sigh of huge relief.
“Thought we was in trouble there,” said Mango, “but its only our mate from the first bit, the oliphant.”
“Drats,” said Zeek. “And me with no peanuts.”
Caraxus roared. “OLIPHANT? I AM CARAXUS! HRST LORD OF ALL DEMON AND I’LL HAVE YOUR SOULS TO TORMENT FOREVER!”
Around him the orcs and lessor demons fell to their knees and began to weep and moan in fear. Caraxus felt much better.
“Mnmnun,” said Shana. “Time to scarper.” The group bolted through the secret door at the back of the balcony and along a corridor to a crossroads. They rounded a corner to find Caraxus filling the passageway, long trunk swaying.
“Back,” squawked Mango from the front.
The group hastily retreated and turned along another corridor. It also ended with Caraxus.
“Yikes,” squealed Spud. “Back this way.”
The party fled down another corridor only to meet the same result. They halted before the demon’s broadly grinning face.
“TELEPORT NO ERROR,” Caraxus beamed contentedly. “MARVELLOUS.”
“OK,” panted Wilson. “We give up. What next?”
“WELL,” boomed Caraxus, “I THOUGHT WE’D START WITH A MILLENNIUM OR TWO OF UNBEARABLE TORMENT AND GO ON FROM THERE.”
“Oh, nothing too serious then,” suggested Wilson flippantly. Caraxus’ great brow furrowed.
“Give us a break, Wilson, and shut up,” Mango hissed.
“I have a plan,” Wilson whispered behind his hand to the party. The party groaned.
“You can hardly blame us for not taking you seriously,” Wilson snigered at the rapidly reddening demon.
“I mean where are the mighty magics you demons are renowned for?” Wilson taunted.
“WHY I’LL FRY YOUR ARSES RIGHT NOW!” the demon raised its viciously taloned hands.
“Fry! Is that all. Anyone can do that,” Wilson goaded.
“Yeah?” the group agreed, remembering their scars.
“Indeed,” Wilson continued rather too smugly for the rest of the party’s liking. “Watch this for impressive.”
He produced a small cube and tossed into the air.
“Where’d he hide that?” Virgil wondered.
“Best not to ask,” suggested Shana.
Wilson pronounced the magic word, “Brixanmorter!” and there appeared Bugby’s Banal Bungalow.
“NOT BAD,” agreed Caraxus, “NICE GABLE. BUT WHAT’S IT PROVE?”
“A simple demonstration that my magic is superior to yours. Firstly, my assistant here,” Wilson indicated Spud, “will enter the Bungalow. I then challenge you with your Teleport No Error to get him out. If you succeed we burn. If you fail, we go free.”
Caraxus ruminated carefully. “I DO HAVE GENIUS INTELLIGENCE YOU KNOW.”
He ruminated some more. “IF THIS IS A TRAP I’D KNOW.”
He ruminated some more. “OK. JUST TO SHOW WE DEMONS ARE OF A SPORTING NATURE.”
“Off you go, Spud,” said Wilson.
“You sure about this?” asked Spud.
“Come on little hero,” Wilson whispered. “All you have to do is run through the Bungalow and out the back door. I’ll do the rest.”
Spud walked through the front door.
“Right,” Wilson challenged. “Do your worst.”
Caraxus snarled then vanished. Wilson clapped his hands loudly and yelled. “Foreclosure!” And the Bungalow instantly collapsed back into a cube. A strangled cry came from within.
“Nice one, Wilson,” said Mango. “Can he get out?”
Wilson shook his head. “Everything inside is magically condensed to atoms. He’s a gonna.”
“Where’s Spud?” asked Shana.
“Should have leapt out the back,” Wilson explained, a satisfied and smug expression on his face.
The party looked at the ground where recently had been Bugby’s Banal Bungalow. There sat a furry foot.
“Must have been too quick for him,” said Wilson.
The A-Team looked sharply at Wilson.
Zeek picked up the foot. “Well, looks like here we go again!”
THE END
The player characters were stripped of their gear, bound tightly and hung over a huge pile of wood faggots. All around them, the hated orcish scum danced and jeered at the finest adventuring team the world had ever known. To one side, Dankwart stood in deep conversation with Ragnurk and Squelbum, occasionally turning to laugh at the A-Team.
“Told you Dankwart was trouble,” Wilson spat, scowling at the treacherous half-orc.”
“You can talk,” choked Mango. “‘Sticks to snakes’ he said, ‘All they know’, he said. Yeah, right on, Wilson.”
Wilson giggled.
“Now what’s so bloody funny?” Mango growled.
“Have you seen yourself? Plus five this, magic armour that! Have you ever seen yourself without your gear on?”
The A-Team couldn’t help but smile. Mango, divorced of the armour and Mighty Mitts of Mauling he’d inhabited as long as any of them could remember looked like an anorexic halfling. The blonde warrior snorted and fell silent.
Orcs bearing lighted brands approached to ignite the bonfire beneath the A-Team and Dankwart weasled forward. “It seems the brothers have you in a bit of a jam,” he grinned.
“I think I speak for all of us when I say - go to Hell!” Shana spat.
Mango coughed. “Er, maybe not all. ‘Live and let live’ is my motto.”
“Well that’s all very nice. But I’m afraid we’ve come too far for that. You see, you have mocked He Who Must Not Be Mocked and now you will pay with your lives! A slow and painful death will feed his return,” Dankwart gloated.
“Had worse,” retorted Virgil, defiantly.
“Bah!” Dankwart snorted and skulked away. The orcs tossed on the burning brands.
“That’s it then,” said Wilson as the faggots began to smoulder. “Cybermech next week?”
“Do not despair, friends. I will pray for divine intervention. Shannafria will save us!” Zeek piped up.
The group laughed grimly. “This should be good.”
“We must all join in. I’ll sing the invocation, you guys join in on the chorus.”
Zeek began to loudly sing ajaunty little song; “Shan-naf-ria, We adore you, Come on down, You gorgeous goddess.”
The disconsolate band joined in less enthusiastically. Ragnurk looked at Dankwart, more than a little confused.
“These guys really are crazy,” puzzled the shaman. “Catchy tune though.” He began to hum and the other orcs were coming in on the chorus;
“Come on down, You gorgeous goddess.”
Soon the whole room was singing along. Dankwart listened carefully, sudden realisation hitting him. “Stop!” he cried, but too late.
In the centre of the room, a shimmering light appeared, slowly taking the lovely form of a stunningly shaped female dressed in a body stocking and thigh-high boots, a dove’s feather pendant around her neck. The orcs, Ragnurk, Dankwart and the A-Team all stood in silent awe, their mouths slack-jawed open. All except Zeek who beamed with pride.
“Welcome, my Shining Mistress,” Zeek spoke with tears streaming down his cheeks, “You have come to our rescue.”
Mango wolf-whistled.
“Rescue,” Shannafnia’ s husky voice sounded distant, insubstantial. The sexy goddess pirouetted, surveying the chamber full of unwashed swine with growing disdain. “I have come to glory in the new flock you have gathered for me.”
Ragnurk, recovering his senses, marched forward angrily. “Listen up! I don’t know who you are, but you’re interrupting our sacrifice and summoning. Bugger off!”
Shannafnia looked astonished; she turned to her only living believer. “Zeek, is this not my new congregation?”
“Not quite, milady, but I’m working on it,” Zeek explained through the increasingly thick column of smoke.
“Have you failed me again, Zeek?” Shannafnia folded her bangle strewn arms and looked cross at her smouldering cleric.
“But...,” Zeek spluttered, flames wreathing his fat form.
“No more excuses,” Shannafria pouted. “You’ll just have to work this one out yourself. I’m off to play Strip Canasta with the boys from Asgard. Catch ya.”
The vision of loveliness vanished.
“Right then,” said Ragnurk, “can we get on with it now?”
“I have failed her,” Zeek mumbled forlornly.
“Stuff her!” Wilson grumbled. “It’s us that needs a little hand right now.”
Suddenly Wilson’s wish came true.
Swinging across the room from a handily placed chandelier cord came a halfling of small stature but with a huge heart and a terminally ugly face.
“TA-DA!” yelled Spud, triumphantly. “A little hand is at hand!” The heroic halfling swung past the shocked A-Team, cutting their bonds with a deft backhand swipe of his dagger.
The A-Team fell in a dishevelled heap, rolling onto the floor away from the fire and bowling over a shocked Ragnurk.
“But how?” cried the Team.
Mango wasted no time in grabbing the fallen shaman by the neck and shaking him fiercely. “Chain bloody lightning,” the sorely aggrieved warrior muttered.
“But where?” cried the Team at Spud.
Mango punched Ragnurk in the face, repeatedly, with extreme prejudice to the shaman’ s continued well-being.
“Aha!” laughed Spud, the diminutive hero of the moment.
“After the last debacle I was washed away with the garbage, only to emerge in Sherdale Forest where I was nurtured by a Lost Tribe of Pygmies until destiny called me to aid you in your hour of greatest need!”
Ragnurk was falling to bits.
“Pygmies?” asked Wilson.
Mango jumped up and down, stamping Ragnurk into the flagstones.
“Well actually,” Spud confided, “I just laid low in the library. I was on my way to the kitchen when I saw you messing about in here. But I thought the other story would read better!”
Mango kicked shaman broken bits into the air. “Fair enough,” said Wilson. “But what about this rabid horde?”
“Chain that, bucko!” Mango slapped his hands together, satisfied at a job well done. There was nothing the bulky fighter hated more than missing his saving throw.
“Solved!” called Spud in his new hero type voice. “At the rear of the balcony, a secret passage!” he said opening it with a stylish flourish.
“Let’s go,” cried Sham, clambering up the chandelier cord.
The rest of the A-Team followed as the orcs looked to Ragnurk for guidance. But Ragnurk was no more; the orc shaman was tattered and torn, bruised and bashed - in fact he was dead. ‘One Life to Feed.’ An ominous stirring of darkness mingled with sulphurous smoke gathered around his corpse.
Dankwart took his cue and surreptitiously exited the room and the adventure to ‘live to fight another day’.
On the balcony, before leaving the chamber, Virgil turned to grin broadly at the befuddled horde of orcs below.
“Oh no,” said Wilson. “Do we really need a speech now?”
Virgil snorted haughtily and turned to his public. “Once again the mighty A-Team has triumphed...,”
Mango grabbed the paladin roughly and dragged him towards the exit. “Not now, Virgil.”
But Virgil could not resist one last word. “And up yours, Caraxus!”
‘One Name to Summon.’
The departing A-Team stopped in its tracks, and turned in utter disbelief to stare at Virgil. The cookie was crumbling.
The yellow smoke around Ragnurk’ s corpse began to form into a thick column; lightning sparked and crackled within it. The band stood on the balcony and watched in horror as the very fabric of the multiverse ripped open, and through the black tear, demon after demon spilled into the chamber, squashing orcs as they fought for floor space. Finally out stepped Caraxus, First Lord of All Demon. His mighty trunk drank deep of the air, his ears rippled hearing every sound. The A-Team heaved a collective sigh of huge relief.
“Thought we was in trouble there,” said Mango, “but its only our mate from the first bit, the oliphant.”
“Drats,” said Zeek. “And me with no peanuts.”
Caraxus roared. “OLIPHANT? I AM CARAXUS! HRST LORD OF ALL DEMON AND I’LL HAVE YOUR SOULS TO TORMENT FOREVER!”
Around him the orcs and lessor demons fell to their knees and began to weep and moan in fear. Caraxus felt much better.
“Mnmnun,” said Shana. “Time to scarper.” The group bolted through the secret door at the back of the balcony and along a corridor to a crossroads. They rounded a corner to find Caraxus filling the passageway, long trunk swaying.
“Back,” squawked Mango from the front.
The group hastily retreated and turned along another corridor. It also ended with Caraxus.
“Yikes,” squealed Spud. “Back this way.”
The party fled down another corridor only to meet the same result. They halted before the demon’s broadly grinning face.
“TELEPORT NO ERROR,” Caraxus beamed contentedly. “MARVELLOUS.”
“OK,” panted Wilson. “We give up. What next?”
“WELL,” boomed Caraxus, “I THOUGHT WE’D START WITH A MILLENNIUM OR TWO OF UNBEARABLE TORMENT AND GO ON FROM THERE.”
“Oh, nothing too serious then,” suggested Wilson flippantly. Caraxus’ great brow furrowed.
“Give us a break, Wilson, and shut up,” Mango hissed.
“I have a plan,” Wilson whispered behind his hand to the party. The party groaned.
“You can hardly blame us for not taking you seriously,” Wilson snigered at the rapidly reddening demon.
“I mean where are the mighty magics you demons are renowned for?” Wilson taunted.
“WHY I’LL FRY YOUR ARSES RIGHT NOW!” the demon raised its viciously taloned hands.
“Fry! Is that all. Anyone can do that,” Wilson goaded.
“Yeah?” the group agreed, remembering their scars.
“Indeed,” Wilson continued rather too smugly for the rest of the party’s liking. “Watch this for impressive.”
He produced a small cube and tossed into the air.
“Where’d he hide that?” Virgil wondered.
“Best not to ask,” suggested Shana.
Wilson pronounced the magic word, “Brixanmorter!” and there appeared Bugby’s Banal Bungalow.
“NOT BAD,” agreed Caraxus, “NICE GABLE. BUT WHAT’S IT PROVE?”
“A simple demonstration that my magic is superior to yours. Firstly, my assistant here,” Wilson indicated Spud, “will enter the Bungalow. I then challenge you with your Teleport No Error to get him out. If you succeed we burn. If you fail, we go free.”
Caraxus ruminated carefully. “I DO HAVE GENIUS INTELLIGENCE YOU KNOW.”
He ruminated some more. “IF THIS IS A TRAP I’D KNOW.”
He ruminated some more. “OK. JUST TO SHOW WE DEMONS ARE OF A SPORTING NATURE.”
“Off you go, Spud,” said Wilson.
“You sure about this?” asked Spud.
“Come on little hero,” Wilson whispered. “All you have to do is run through the Bungalow and out the back door. I’ll do the rest.”
Spud walked through the front door.
“Right,” Wilson challenged. “Do your worst.”
Caraxus snarled then vanished. Wilson clapped his hands loudly and yelled. “Foreclosure!” And the Bungalow instantly collapsed back into a cube. A strangled cry came from within.
“Nice one, Wilson,” said Mango. “Can he get out?”
Wilson shook his head. “Everything inside is magically condensed to atoms. He’s a gonna.”
“Where’s Spud?” asked Shana.
“Should have leapt out the back,” Wilson explained, a satisfied and smug expression on his face.
The party looked at the ground where recently had been Bugby’s Banal Bungalow. There sat a furry foot.
“Must have been too quick for him,” said Wilson.
The A-Team looked sharply at Wilson.
Zeek picked up the foot. “Well, looks like here we go again!”
THE END
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Broccli_Head
Explorer
Hahaha!
the old "trick-the-demon-into-jumping-into the-extra-dimensional- pocket" manuver!
go Goofy Heroes!
the old "trick-the-demon-into-jumping-into the-extra-dimensional- pocket" manuver!
go Goofy Heroes!
Inez Hull
First Post
Rest assured, there are other comics continuing on from here. Unfortunately they are not published as a whole story and I'm missing some of the issues. I may have to approach the publishers of Australian Realms and ask if they are willing to forward copies to me. Hmmm, fingers crossed on that one.
Oh well, I'll give it a try anyway - news to come when I get a response.
Oh well, I'll give it a try anyway - news to come when I get a response.
GreyShadow
Explorer
Which issues are you missing? I might have them packed away somewhere.
Inez Hull
First Post
I'm looking at putting the third adventure of the A-Team form comic form into a Story Hour but don't have access to any copies of Australian Realms with the later comics. If any Australian posters out there would be interested in helping out with the 'translation' or would be willing to get copies of the comics to me please get in touch.
Thanks
Thanks
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