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Tales From The Awning Pothole
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<blockquote data-quote="BoldItalic" data-source="post: 7178060" data-attributes="member: 6777052"><p><strong>< Tippy ></strong></p><p></p><p><span style="color: blue">Lezzdra was annoyed. By Lolth, she was annoyed. Well, you would be if you had been captured, bound and gagged by a bunch of surface-dwellers who had slaughtered your guard-slaves for no good reason. If anyone was going to slaughter her slaves, it should be <em>her</em>, not some house-less, halberd-twirling, good-for-nothing half-orc with her so-called cleric man-slave and her so-called wizard man-slave and those other two who were so ugly, no-one would pay anything for them. To cap it all, she was going to be late for the hairdresser's.</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"What should we do with her?" asked Alber't'ickle with a nod to Lezzdra as he continued cleaning his daggers. "I could just slit her throat. She did call us some very rude names."</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"No, name-calling isn't a capital offense," said Tippy. "Besides, you would have to clean your daggers all over again. But I might allow you to tickle her all over to make her confess."</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"NN! N NNT!"</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"I think I'd better do the tickling," interposed Tasha as she folded away the extra blade in her halberd. "You might enjoy tickling a woman all over, more than is good for you. Anyway, what do we want her to confess <em>to</em>?"</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">Igoatunot looked up from reading <em>Techniques of Interrogation and Torture</em>. "Everything, basically," he suggested, frowning and looking sternly at Lezzdra. "It could take a while, she looks very guilty about quite a lot of things."</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"NN N NZZN NN! NN NN GZN!"</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"Uf A mite maik a ssuggistiun?" offered GlibbleFleep, who had drunk one of his own potions of <em>Speak with The Living</em> but it wasn't quite working completely yet, "A haff a potion of <em>Zone of Truth</em>."</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"That might work," agreed Tippy. "But do we risk ungagging her? She might come out with some awful cantrip."</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"M MZ MGMM NT M?"</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"We could get her to write everything down?" suggested Igoatunot. "I have an <em>Endless Scroll of Scrolling</em>. I was saving it for my autobiography, but I expect I can get another one somewhere."</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"I have plenty of ink," offered Alber't'ickle, then looked somewhat embarrassed for reasons no-one else understood but politely pretended not to notice.</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"Looks like we have a plan," decided Tippy. About an hour later, Igoatunot started to read out the finished confession. "When I was three years old, I was kind to a ..." but Tippy interrupted him. Turning to Lezzdra, he spoke forcefully. "I will offer you a deal," he said. "Guide us through your drow city to the exits to the surface that your soldiers use to make their night-time forays to the upper world, and we will let you go free. But if you play us false, we will sell your confession to the newspapers."</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"EZRFMFM!" replied Lezzdra with a vigorous guesture of denial.</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">"I think that was a very rude word," translated GlibbleFleep, "And not at all lady-like. Let me try." So saying, he produced his magic narwhal horn and blew a few notes on it to tune up his lips. Then he played the <em>March of the Slaves</em> from a certain well-known opera, followed by the <em>March To The Scaffold</em> from a certain well-known symphony and finished with the <em>Dead March</em> from a certain well-known oratorio.</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p><p><span style="color: blue">There was a stunned silence. Then Lezzdra sank to her knees and wept.</span></p><p><span style="color: blue"></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BoldItalic, post: 7178060, member: 6777052"] [b]< Tippy >[/b] [COLOR=blue]Lezzdra was annoyed. By Lolth, she was annoyed. Well, you would be if you had been captured, bound and gagged by a bunch of surface-dwellers who had slaughtered your guard-slaves for no good reason. If anyone was going to slaughter her slaves, it should be [I]her[/I], not some house-less, halberd-twirling, good-for-nothing half-orc with her so-called cleric man-slave and her so-called wizard man-slave and those other two who were so ugly, no-one would pay anything for them. To cap it all, she was going to be late for the hairdresser's. "What should we do with her?" asked Alber't'ickle with a nod to Lezzdra as he continued cleaning his daggers. "I could just slit her throat. She did call us some very rude names." "No, name-calling isn't a capital offense," said Tippy. "Besides, you would have to clean your daggers all over again. But I might allow you to tickle her all over to make her confess." "NN! N NNT!" "I think I'd better do the tickling," interposed Tasha as she folded away the extra blade in her halberd. "You might enjoy tickling a woman all over, more than is good for you. Anyway, what do we want her to confess [I]to[/I]?" Igoatunot looked up from reading [I]Techniques of Interrogation and Torture[/I]. "Everything, basically," he suggested, frowning and looking sternly at Lezzdra. "It could take a while, she looks very guilty about quite a lot of things." "NN N NZZN NN! NN NN GZN!" "Uf A mite maik a ssuggistiun?" offered GlibbleFleep, who had drunk one of his own potions of [I]Speak with The Living[/I] but it wasn't quite working completely yet, "A haff a potion of [I]Zone of Truth[/I]." "That might work," agreed Tippy. "But do we risk ungagging her? She might come out with some awful cantrip." "M MZ MGMM NT M?" "We could get her to write everything down?" suggested Igoatunot. "I have an [I]Endless Scroll of Scrolling[/I]. I was saving it for my autobiography, but I expect I can get another one somewhere." "I have plenty of ink," offered Alber't'ickle, then looked somewhat embarrassed for reasons no-one else understood but politely pretended not to notice. "Looks like we have a plan," decided Tippy. About an hour later, Igoatunot started to read out the finished confession. "When I was three years old, I was kind to a ..." but Tippy interrupted him. Turning to Lezzdra, he spoke forcefully. "I will offer you a deal," he said. "Guide us through your drow city to the exits to the surface that your soldiers use to make their night-time forays to the upper world, and we will let you go free. But if you play us false, we will sell your confession to the newspapers." "EZRFMFM!" replied Lezzdra with a vigorous guesture of denial. "I think that was a very rude word," translated GlibbleFleep, "And not at all lady-like. Let me try." So saying, he produced his magic narwhal horn and blew a few notes on it to tune up his lips. Then he played the [I]March of the Slaves[/I] from a certain well-known opera, followed by the [I]March To The Scaffold[/I] from a certain well-known symphony and finished with the [I]Dead March[/I] from a certain well-known oratorio. There was a stunned silence. Then Lezzdra sank to her knees and wept. [/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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