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The Lost Boys vs. The Sunless Citadel (no regional dialect)
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<blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 3709898" data-attributes="member: 16069"><p>Turn 4.6</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">The Dragon Key</p><p></p><p>The Lost Boys sans Meepo, he’s back with his kin, reassemble in the first tower.</p><p></p><p>“What’s it to be then?” Dartamor enquires.</p><p>“Treasure.” Grand Alf states.</p><p>“We’re pretty low on resources- maybe we should wait a while, I mean St. Cuthbert is strong but even he has to have a nice lie down every now and then.” Saradomin whines a little, knowing he has no spells left and is still nursing a wound.</p><p>“Ditto Pelor.” Aleso agrees trying to remove a bloody stain from his armour.</p><p></p><p>“TRESH-URE. DRAGUN KEY.”</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf hops from foot to foot- barely able to contain his excitement.</p><p></p><p>Dartamor shrugs, “perhaps we could just take a peek, we’ll be careful this time- what do you say?”</p><p></p><p>“Pelor wants a sandwich.” Aleso states, and stamps his foot.</p><p></p><p>“TReSHUre.”</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf grabs the Dragon Key, which Dartamor has just recovered from his leather jerkin, the mad Sorcerer sprints to the Dragon Door, and when the others get there, flings the now unlocked door open.</p><p></p><p>A noise comes from the chamber beyond.</p><p></p><p>“Wur walkin in theeeeeee air</p><p>Wur floatin in thee moon-lit sky-iiiiiiiiii</p><p>Tha peepul far belowww R sleepin as we fly-iiiii.”</p><p></p><p>A terrible reedy voice, some pipsqueak adolescent, whispers the words.</p><p></p><p>The brave adventurers move in, the chamber is thick with a carpet of dust, three alcoves to the north, one to the south. Each of the alcoves holds a pedestal, on top of each is what looks to be a heavy circular stone, except for the alcove to the south, there the circular stone seems to be a glass ball, which glows with an inner light. Inside of the glowing orb is a miniature snowstorm, well that’s what it looks like, the singing seems to be coming from there also.</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf strides over to the thing, spots another stone door at the opposite side of the chamber.</p><p></p><p>As he does so the volume of the music increases dramatically.</p><p></p><p>“I'MMM holdin’ vereeeee tyte</p><p>I’MMM ridin’ in De midnYt blOOOO</p><p>I'MMMM findin’ aye Kan flIII sEW hY abUve withH yEW.”</p><p></p><p>Dartamor clutches his ears, staggers from the chamber, screaming- “Noooooooooooo. Not Clalad J-jones.</p><p></p><p>It is indeed a recording of the famous Gnome Bard Clalad J-jones famed far and wide for his inability to hold a tune, in fact it is said that Clalad J-jones couldn’t hold a tune in a bucket.</p><p></p><p>“FArR aKross thHHe wUrld</p><p>ThHe viLLaRges gEW bYE lYke dreEEEms</p><p>ThHe rivURrs aYnd De hYlls</p><p>De foRRests aYnd tHHe streEEms.”</p><p></p><p>The noise continues; a horrendous row.</p><p></p><p>Aleso and Saradomin rush from the room screaming, stuffing anything that will fit into their ears en route.</p><p></p><p>Which leaves Grand Alf, he sings along- of course, badly, of course again, and he doesn’t know the words- but that’s not going to stop him is it.</p><p></p><p>“ChiLLdreN gaYze opeRRn moWWthed.”</p><p>“MilKmeN GlaYZe ALpYne MoTHs.”</p><p></p><p>”TaYkeNN bII surPrYYse.”</p><p>“CHoKinG oN HoTT FrIeS.”</p><p></p><p>”NobodEEE dowUN beLowE belieVEs THEer EyES.”</p><p>“NoDDy eaTS Big EaRs PiEs, aND FrIeS.”</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf picks up the glass ball, the volume dial ratchets up to 23, ear-piercing.</p><p></p><p>He sings along some more as he waddles with the thing to the door, and his boon companions beyond, they seem to be waving at him.</p><p></p><p>Dartamor, Aleso and Saradomin signal desperately for Grand Alf to put the thing down, go away, he waddles on- they scatter, crunch-crouch and cry, Grand Alf’s still singing.</p><p></p><p>“WY'rE surFFin’ iN tHe aYr.”</p><p>“THeY deCIdE To hAVe A bEEr.”</p><p></p><p>”WY'rE swiMMin’ iN tHe frOWzeN sKy.”</p><p>“THeY’RE DrinKinG aS tHeY EaT tHeIR FrIeS.”</p><p></p><p>”WY'rE driFTin’ oVA iCy.”</p><p>“THeY’RE SniFFinG SoMeTHinG SPiCeY.”</p><p></p><p>”MoWTEn floWtin’ BY.”</p><p>“CHiCKeN TiKKa SLiCeY.”</p><p></p><p>And then it stops, Grand Alf is out the room, he shakes the glass snowstorm, which has clouded over- turned into a lump of rock like the others.</p><p></p><p>“Awww. That was good- I was enjoying that.”</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf turns and strides back into the room.</p><p></p><p>“Noooooo.” In chorus from the others.</p><p></p><p>But the thing is dead- no more sonorous music.</p><p></p><p>DMs interlude- For a full version of ‘The Snowman’, if you think you can stand it, go here, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aR1Ln-ctn5E" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aR1Ln-ctn5E</a> it sounded like the worst thing in the world when I was a kid, still does. Alas puberty cured Aled Jones of his delicate voice.</p><p></p><p>Back to the action.</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf drops the thing.</p><p></p><p>THUNK</p><p></p><p>“Where do you think this goes?” And in an instant he’s over and wrenching the next door open.</p><p></p><p>“Noooooo.” Dartamor offers.</p><p></p><p>Aleso and Saradomin shake their heads.</p><p></p><p>“I thought we said we’d be more careful?” Saradomin questions.</p><p>Aleso tuts and strides over.</p><p></p><p>Dartamor has caught up with Grand Alf, there’s a short corridor to another door- more dust.</p><p></p><p>“Wait a minute, let me just check the area ahead.”</p><p></p><p>And true to his word, Dartamor shuffles in, looks hard at the floor.</p><p></p><p>And in a minute finds the trap ahead.</p><p></p><p>“Saradomin go get one of them stone balls.”</p><p></p><p>The Priest returns with a stone ball.</p><p></p><p>“Now bowl it at the far door.”</p><p></p><p>Saradomin assumes the position, semi-crouch, back bent over the thing, which he swings between his legs, like some great ape- he’s a natural.</p><p></p><p>BOKKA-WUBBLE-WUBBLE-thwongthwongthwongthwongthwong-ERK</p><p></p><p>A burst of crossbow bolts from hidden holes smash into the giant stone bowling ball.</p><p></p><p>Everyone grins- a job well done, Aleso pats Dartamor and Saradomin on the back, looks up and spots Grand Alf opening the next door. They rush after him.</p><p></p><p>Into a huge chamber, dust like snow on the ground, several inches deep, clouds of it fill the air as they step in. There are no other doors, only a statue of a dragon on a pedestal.</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf strides up to it, billowing clouds mask his tread.</p><p></p><p>The dragon cranes round to stare at Grand Alf, it works its jaw- speaks.</p><p></p><p>“We come at night without being fetched;</p><p>We disappear by day without being stolen.”</p><p></p><p>“Biscuits.” Grand Alf shouts.</p><p></p><p>“Is it a riddle?” Aleso strides in.</p><p>“St. Cuthbert prides himself in his riddling.” Saradomin comments.</p><p>“I heard he riddles in the street.” Aleso guffaws.</p><p>“Better than the Sun… Oh what do you worship, I worship the Sun- that’s all you are you know, primitive sun-worshippers. That’s why you’ve all got tans.”</p><p></p><p>The divine duo square up, again.</p><p></p><p>“Biscuits.” Grand Alf shouts again.</p><p></p><p>“Look Saradomin, St. Cuthbert is a drunk, it’s a well known fact, the other deities laugh at him, he wees in the street swigging from a bottle of Olde Perculiar.”</p><p>“Right that’s it, Pelor is only good for growing vegetables, like you.”</p><p></p><p>“Is it ‘Biscuits’? They come at night… from the Biscuit-Fairy, and then disappear again when you eat them. Is it… Biscuits?” Grand Alf’s developed a doubt.</p><p> </p><p>“ST. CUTHBERT IS A TIGHT WAD.”</p><p>“OOOOOH PELOR SHINE YOUR LIGHT ON ME- YOU CABBAGE.”</p><p></p><p>“Is it ‘Biscuits’, do you think Dartamor?” Grand Alf looks forlorn, it may not be ‘Biscuits’ after all.</p><p></p><p>“Stars.”</p><p></p><p>Dartamor states.</p><p></p><p>“BISCUITS.” Grand Alf yells and rushes over to the door that has popped open, and through, the others chase after him.</p><p></p><p>The next chamber is not quite as dusty; there are more alcoves, three north, three south- they each seem to hold a statue of a proud Elven warrior.</p><p></p><p>“Careful there may be a tr…” Dartamor calls, too late as usual.</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf is at the last of the northern alcoves, its empty- suspicious.</p><p></p><p>“Hey there’s a pit over here… and a light beyond.”</p><p></p><p>The three others gingerly head over to Grand Alf, at the far end of the chamber is a large archway into another chamber, however there’s an open pit between the two rooms, a sunrod illuminates the bottom of the pit- it’s full of fierce looking spikes.</p><p></p><p>“Wait.” </p><p></p><p>Dartamor has a look around, there are some tracks in the dust- small clawed feet, he points them out.</p><p></p><p>“Here’s the thing, the tracks start from nowhere, as in they just begin.” Dartamor’s puzzled.</p><p></p><p>“Is it a chicken, they have clawed feet, and they’re little.” Grand Alf cuts to the chase.</p><p>“How could it be a chicken? Why do the tracks just… start?” Saradomin hands on hips.</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf thinks about it, “It flew.”</p><p></p><p>“Chickens don’t fly Grand Alf”, Aleso offers.</p><p>“Then it’s a magic chicken.”</p><p>“Where did it come from?” Saradomin enquires.</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf thinks some more, “Ah-hah. It was summoned, it’s a Magic Demon Chicken- fearsome creature, quite a bite, I mean peck.”</p><p></p><p>“Pelor save us.” Aleso whispers.</p><p>“Ditto St. Cuthbert.” Saradomin adds.</p><p></p><p>While the three are debating Dartamor gauges the distance across the pit, shouldn’t be that much of a problem, gives himself a good run-up, sprints forward and launches himself over.</p><p></p><p>SLAP</p><p></p><p>And falls short, scrabbles at the lip of the pit on the far-side, manages to cling on- he’s dangling over the spikes.</p><p></p><p>“A little help please.”</p><p></p><p>The others panic- what to do. Grand Alf begins hopping on the spot.</p><p></p><p>“Jump, Jump, Jump around.”</p><p></p><p>But before he can leap a Magic Demon Chicken, actually not- a small winged humanoid, a miniature Demon in fact, appears standing on Dartamor’s hands. The creature grins, a barbed stinger darts down aiming for the Elf rogues hands.</p><p></p><p>“Thought you’d disturb the Dragon Priest’s slumber would you, we’ll see about that.”</p><p></p><p>The stinger misses, however only because Dartamor lets go of the side- and falls.</p><p></p><p>EEEERRKKK</p><p></p><p>And is impaled on the spikes below- blood flows, he gasps once- more blood bubbles from his throat, he closes his eyes.</p><p></p><p>The Demon disappears, there’s the sound of fluttering- of tiny wings.</p><p></p><p>“Fear not for St. Cuthbert will rid us of this Demon-creature.” Saradomin swats the air with his heavy mace.</p><p></p><p>“PELOR bring forth thy shining countenance to vanquish this foul demon from our midst.” Aleso joins the league of swishers and swatters.</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf fumbles for a scroll.</p><p></p><p>The Demon blinks back into existence, back towards the entrance to the chamber.</p><p></p><p>“Feel my terror.”</p><p></p><p>A black mist shoots from the Demon’s fingertips and engulfs Saradomin. The cleric of St. Cuthbert stops swinging, and shouts, “St. Cuthbert hear my call… Nooooooooooooooo.” The black cloud fades out of existence.</p><p></p><p>“Bugger.” The Demon adds.</p><p></p><p>THUNK-THUNK</p><p></p><p>And is hit by two Magic Missiles courtesy of Grand Alf.</p><p></p><p>“Take that Magical Demon Chicken.”</p><p></p><p>The Demon disappears with a growl, flutters towards the exit, calling back.</p><p></p><p> “You broke the binding; my watch on the Dragon Priest is over. Curse you.”</p><p></p><p>And is gone.</p><p></p><p>“Job well done.” Grand Alf nods.</p><p></p><p>The divine duo stare with trepidation at the still form of Dartamor.</p><p></p><p>Next Turn: In the Night</p><p></p><p>Thus ends the session.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Goonalan, post: 3709898, member: 16069"] Turn 4.6 [CENTER]The Dragon Key[/CENTER] The Lost Boys sans Meepo, he’s back with his kin, reassemble in the first tower. “What’s it to be then?” Dartamor enquires. “Treasure.” Grand Alf states. “We’re pretty low on resources- maybe we should wait a while, I mean St. Cuthbert is strong but even he has to have a nice lie down every now and then.” Saradomin whines a little, knowing he has no spells left and is still nursing a wound. “Ditto Pelor.” Aleso agrees trying to remove a bloody stain from his armour. “TRESH-URE. DRAGUN KEY.” Grand Alf hops from foot to foot- barely able to contain his excitement. Dartamor shrugs, “perhaps we could just take a peek, we’ll be careful this time- what do you say?” “Pelor wants a sandwich.” Aleso states, and stamps his foot. “TReSHUre.” Grand Alf grabs the Dragon Key, which Dartamor has just recovered from his leather jerkin, the mad Sorcerer sprints to the Dragon Door, and when the others get there, flings the now unlocked door open. A noise comes from the chamber beyond. “Wur walkin in theeeeeee air Wur floatin in thee moon-lit sky-iiiiiiiiii Tha peepul far belowww R sleepin as we fly-iiiii.” A terrible reedy voice, some pipsqueak adolescent, whispers the words. The brave adventurers move in, the chamber is thick with a carpet of dust, three alcoves to the north, one to the south. Each of the alcoves holds a pedestal, on top of each is what looks to be a heavy circular stone, except for the alcove to the south, there the circular stone seems to be a glass ball, which glows with an inner light. Inside of the glowing orb is a miniature snowstorm, well that’s what it looks like, the singing seems to be coming from there also. Grand Alf strides over to the thing, spots another stone door at the opposite side of the chamber. As he does so the volume of the music increases dramatically. “I'MMM holdin’ vereeeee tyte I’MMM ridin’ in De midnYt blOOOO I'MMMM findin’ aye Kan flIII sEW hY abUve withH yEW.” Dartamor clutches his ears, staggers from the chamber, screaming- “Noooooooooooo. Not Clalad J-jones. It is indeed a recording of the famous Gnome Bard Clalad J-jones famed far and wide for his inability to hold a tune, in fact it is said that Clalad J-jones couldn’t hold a tune in a bucket. “FArR aKross thHHe wUrld ThHe viLLaRges gEW bYE lYke dreEEEms ThHe rivURrs aYnd De hYlls De foRRests aYnd tHHe streEEms.” The noise continues; a horrendous row. Aleso and Saradomin rush from the room screaming, stuffing anything that will fit into their ears en route. Which leaves Grand Alf, he sings along- of course, badly, of course again, and he doesn’t know the words- but that’s not going to stop him is it. “ChiLLdreN gaYze opeRRn moWWthed.” “MilKmeN GlaYZe ALpYne MoTHs.” ”TaYkeNN bII surPrYYse.” “CHoKinG oN HoTT FrIeS.” ”NobodEEE dowUN beLowE belieVEs THEer EyES.” “NoDDy eaTS Big EaRs PiEs, aND FrIeS.” Grand Alf picks up the glass ball, the volume dial ratchets up to 23, ear-piercing. He sings along some more as he waddles with the thing to the door, and his boon companions beyond, they seem to be waving at him. Dartamor, Aleso and Saradomin signal desperately for Grand Alf to put the thing down, go away, he waddles on- they scatter, crunch-crouch and cry, Grand Alf’s still singing. “WY'rE surFFin’ iN tHe aYr.” “THeY deCIdE To hAVe A bEEr.” ”WY'rE swiMMin’ iN tHe frOWzeN sKy.” “THeY’RE DrinKinG aS tHeY EaT tHeIR FrIeS.” ”WY'rE driFTin’ oVA iCy.” “THeY’RE SniFFinG SoMeTHinG SPiCeY.” ”MoWTEn floWtin’ BY.” “CHiCKeN TiKKa SLiCeY.” And then it stops, Grand Alf is out the room, he shakes the glass snowstorm, which has clouded over- turned into a lump of rock like the others. “Awww. That was good- I was enjoying that.” Grand Alf turns and strides back into the room. “Noooooo.” In chorus from the others. But the thing is dead- no more sonorous music. DMs interlude- For a full version of ‘The Snowman’, if you think you can stand it, go here, [url]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aR1Ln-ctn5E[/url] it sounded like the worst thing in the world when I was a kid, still does. Alas puberty cured Aled Jones of his delicate voice. Back to the action. Grand Alf drops the thing. THUNK “Where do you think this goes?” And in an instant he’s over and wrenching the next door open. “Noooooo.” Dartamor offers. Aleso and Saradomin shake their heads. “I thought we said we’d be more careful?” Saradomin questions. Aleso tuts and strides over. Dartamor has caught up with Grand Alf, there’s a short corridor to another door- more dust. “Wait a minute, let me just check the area ahead.” And true to his word, Dartamor shuffles in, looks hard at the floor. And in a minute finds the trap ahead. “Saradomin go get one of them stone balls.” The Priest returns with a stone ball. “Now bowl it at the far door.” Saradomin assumes the position, semi-crouch, back bent over the thing, which he swings between his legs, like some great ape- he’s a natural. BOKKA-WUBBLE-WUBBLE-thwongthwongthwongthwongthwong-ERK A burst of crossbow bolts from hidden holes smash into the giant stone bowling ball. Everyone grins- a job well done, Aleso pats Dartamor and Saradomin on the back, looks up and spots Grand Alf opening the next door. They rush after him. Into a huge chamber, dust like snow on the ground, several inches deep, clouds of it fill the air as they step in. There are no other doors, only a statue of a dragon on a pedestal. Grand Alf strides up to it, billowing clouds mask his tread. The dragon cranes round to stare at Grand Alf, it works its jaw- speaks. “We come at night without being fetched; We disappear by day without being stolen.” “Biscuits.” Grand Alf shouts. “Is it a riddle?” Aleso strides in. “St. Cuthbert prides himself in his riddling.” Saradomin comments. “I heard he riddles in the street.” Aleso guffaws. “Better than the Sun… Oh what do you worship, I worship the Sun- that’s all you are you know, primitive sun-worshippers. That’s why you’ve all got tans.” The divine duo square up, again. “Biscuits.” Grand Alf shouts again. “Look Saradomin, St. Cuthbert is a drunk, it’s a well known fact, the other deities laugh at him, he wees in the street swigging from a bottle of Olde Perculiar.” “Right that’s it, Pelor is only good for growing vegetables, like you.” “Is it ‘Biscuits’? They come at night… from the Biscuit-Fairy, and then disappear again when you eat them. Is it… Biscuits?” Grand Alf’s developed a doubt. “ST. CUTHBERT IS A TIGHT WAD.” “OOOOOH PELOR SHINE YOUR LIGHT ON ME- YOU CABBAGE.” “Is it ‘Biscuits’, do you think Dartamor?” Grand Alf looks forlorn, it may not be ‘Biscuits’ after all. “Stars.” Dartamor states. “BISCUITS.” Grand Alf yells and rushes over to the door that has popped open, and through, the others chase after him. The next chamber is not quite as dusty; there are more alcoves, three north, three south- they each seem to hold a statue of a proud Elven warrior. “Careful there may be a tr…” Dartamor calls, too late as usual. Grand Alf is at the last of the northern alcoves, its empty- suspicious. “Hey there’s a pit over here… and a light beyond.” The three others gingerly head over to Grand Alf, at the far end of the chamber is a large archway into another chamber, however there’s an open pit between the two rooms, a sunrod illuminates the bottom of the pit- it’s full of fierce looking spikes. “Wait.” Dartamor has a look around, there are some tracks in the dust- small clawed feet, he points them out. “Here’s the thing, the tracks start from nowhere, as in they just begin.” Dartamor’s puzzled. “Is it a chicken, they have clawed feet, and they’re little.” Grand Alf cuts to the chase. “How could it be a chicken? Why do the tracks just… start?” Saradomin hands on hips. Grand Alf thinks about it, “It flew.” “Chickens don’t fly Grand Alf”, Aleso offers. “Then it’s a magic chicken.” “Where did it come from?” Saradomin enquires. Grand Alf thinks some more, “Ah-hah. It was summoned, it’s a Magic Demon Chicken- fearsome creature, quite a bite, I mean peck.” “Pelor save us.” Aleso whispers. “Ditto St. Cuthbert.” Saradomin adds. While the three are debating Dartamor gauges the distance across the pit, shouldn’t be that much of a problem, gives himself a good run-up, sprints forward and launches himself over. SLAP And falls short, scrabbles at the lip of the pit on the far-side, manages to cling on- he’s dangling over the spikes. “A little help please.” The others panic- what to do. Grand Alf begins hopping on the spot. “Jump, Jump, Jump around.” But before he can leap a Magic Demon Chicken, actually not- a small winged humanoid, a miniature Demon in fact, appears standing on Dartamor’s hands. The creature grins, a barbed stinger darts down aiming for the Elf rogues hands. “Thought you’d disturb the Dragon Priest’s slumber would you, we’ll see about that.” The stinger misses, however only because Dartamor lets go of the side- and falls. EEEERRKKK And is impaled on the spikes below- blood flows, he gasps once- more blood bubbles from his throat, he closes his eyes. The Demon disappears, there’s the sound of fluttering- of tiny wings. “Fear not for St. Cuthbert will rid us of this Demon-creature.” Saradomin swats the air with his heavy mace. “PELOR bring forth thy shining countenance to vanquish this foul demon from our midst.” Aleso joins the league of swishers and swatters. Grand Alf fumbles for a scroll. The Demon blinks back into existence, back towards the entrance to the chamber. “Feel my terror.” A black mist shoots from the Demon’s fingertips and engulfs Saradomin. The cleric of St. Cuthbert stops swinging, and shouts, “St. Cuthbert hear my call… Nooooooooooooooo.” The black cloud fades out of existence. “Bugger.” The Demon adds. THUNK-THUNK And is hit by two Magic Missiles courtesy of Grand Alf. “Take that Magical Demon Chicken.” The Demon disappears with a growl, flutters towards the exit, calling back. “You broke the binding; my watch on the Dragon Priest is over. Curse you.” And is gone. “Job well done.” Grand Alf nods. The divine duo stare with trepidation at the still form of Dartamor. Next Turn: In the Night Thus ends the session. [/QUOTE]
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The Lost Boys vs. The Sunless Citadel (no regional dialect)
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