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The Lost Boys vs The Sunless Citadel
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<blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 3912114" data-attributes="member: 16069"><p>Turn 7.1 Bit the Next</p><p></p><p>“Wow… I mean… Wow… Big.” Saradomin pronounces every syllable of the word ‘big.’</p><p></p><p>The Bar-B-Q over the Lost Boys have made their way back the way they came and through the only other door that has not yet been explored, the one that Grand Alf found, then through a very very small ante-room, and another door, and into a huge chamber.</p><p></p><p>Nodules of luminescent fungus hang from the ceiling and walls, and grow in clumps upon the flagged floor. The vaguely nauseous light illuminates portions of grand bas-relief carvings on the stone walls that are not covered with the self-same fungus. The carvings are themed, the theme being dragons in various poses raining down fire upon terrified humans, elves, dwarves and others.</p><p></p><p>Soil and compost cover the near half of the huge chamber’s floor, which allows a variety of wan grasses to grow. A bench containing simple gardening implements stands along the west wall, there’s a door in the north wall- close by.</p><p></p><p>“Bleeeurgh.” Grand Alf spits and hawks for a moment and then comes to his senses, “this fungus tastes rotten.”</p><p></p><p>To which there’s no answer.</p><p></p><p>Dartamor shakes his head and wanders over to the door, to check it over, and see if he can make it open. Jerky follows him over, warily spying the Sorcerer for his next foolish move.</p><p></p><p>He doesn’t have to wait long.</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf’s off, in hot pursuit, and to the table crammed with gardening implements which is being pawed over by Saradomin and Aleso, the Sorcerer grabs at a wooden handle, hefts his new find aloft for all to see.</p><p></p><p>It’s a garden fork.</p><p></p><p>The Sorcerer dodges about a bit, parries imaginary blows with the haft of the fork, and then, as quick as… well fairly quickly, delivers a stabbing blow to his imaginary foe.</p><p></p><p>“Take that.” Grand Alf holds the fork aloft and then dances a little in triumph, somewhat inured to his antics only Jerky bothers to watch the charade.</p><p></p><p>“Grand Alf’s Staff of Earth… Forking? No, that’s not it. I’ll work on it. I’d like to meet the fiend that could stand up to me with…”</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf struggles to heft the spade in his off hand, eventually gets it balanced.</p><p></p><p>“… These.” He finishers and then delivers a left-right series of… oh he falls over.</p><p></p><p>“I meant to do that.” He states as he clambers back to his feet, “get them off their guard.” He tries the manoeuvre again, perfect, nearly- well at least he stayed on his feet this time. </p><p></p><p>“Bloody fool.” Saradomin whispers to Aleso, the pair have at last seen fit to provide all the audience Grand Alf needs, the Paladin nods back- which is about the first thing they’ve agreed on.</p><p></p><p>“Door open.” Dartamor is as good as his word, there’s another chamber beyond, a mirror of the one they stand in, Jerky shuts the door again, “let’s check this one out first”, the Rogue nods.</p><p></p><p>And so the sextet, including a lumbering Bernard (with one arm remember), trot over to a door in an alcove on the east wall. Dartamor gets to work and soon after opens the thing, and into a smaller but equally odd-looking chamber.</p><p></p><p>Luminescent mists blur the edges of this octagonal room. Nodules of glowing fungus dot the stone walls and ceiling, as well as the caps of toad-stools and mushrooms, small polyps, puffballs, lichens and other less identifiable growths. The humid air reeks of rot.</p><p></p><p>“Have you farted?” Grand Alf giggles, holds his nose, and points at Aleso. The Paladin looks, well… stern.</p><p></p><p>“MAY PELOR FORGIVE YOUR FOOLISH MUMBLINGS MAGE.”</p><p></p><p>The Paladin strides a little into the chamber, holds his nose and smothers a giggle, all the time pointing at Saradomin’s back, and waving away the aforementioned, trump-like, aroma.</p><p></p><p>Saradomin eventually turns around to stare at the two giggling buffoons, and shrugs, he turns back, and points- “there’s a light coming from that hole on the wall over there… the one next to the other hole… which is next to the other… hole… sssss.”</p><p></p><p>The chamber is riddled with holes, like the Bar-B-Q chamber earlier, one of the holes is glowing, like the… you get the idea.</p><p></p><p>“Oh, it’s…” Saradomin starts.</p><p></p><p>And.</p><p></p><p>“Watch Out.” Aleso cautions.</p><p></p><p>But it’s all too late; Dartamor rushes for the nearest wall, flattens himself against it and sidles around till he’s just to the side of the glowing hole.</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf has other ideas.</p><p></p><p>“Come on and get a good forking.”</p><p></p><p>The Sorcerer merrily capers, fork in hands, a little way in front of the hole.</p><p></p><p>“I’m gonna fork you.”</p><p></p><p>The capering continues unabated for a while, then ends with a half-turn and a jiggling bottom in the direction of the illuminated hole.</p><p></p><p>“This is madness.” Jerky stares open mouthed.</p><p>Aleso concentrates his gaze on the Gnome, looks puzzled a while, “What’s your point?” he asks.</p><p></p><p>Saradomin eventually breaks the deadlock, sees sense, “Grand Alf do it again, lure it to us- get it real mad.”</p><p></p><p>Eagerly the Sorcerer nods, runs through a few silent epithets, and then begins his capering again, screaming.</p><p></p><p>“I AM THE FORKER…”</p><p></p><p>And is engulfed in flame, and worm, of course.</p><p></p><p>“It’s coming.” Saradomin yells, they say the secret of great comedy is timing, the Priest of St. Cuthbert smiles contentedly.</p><p></p><p>“Ow. OW. OW. BURNY.”</p><p></p><p>Grand Alf immediately, and on purpose, flings himself away from the worm, he's on fire, on purpose- he meant to do it, you understand.</p><p></p><p>“BURNY. BURNY.”</p><p></p><p>He screams and has what looks to be a titanic seizure, flapping the flames out with his flailing arms and hands.</p><p></p><p>His lab coat is ruined… more ruined… whatever.</p><p></p><p>DMs Interlude- the Thoqqua’s adjusted initiative roll was 4, you’ll see why this is important, or not, much later.</p><p></p><p>Dartamor lances his rapier out, and in, and through the worm, golden molten ichor spews from the wound, the worm thrashes as the Rogue pulls out his blade.</p><p></p><p>The remaining three religious types sprout ranged weapons and fire, all three missiles strike the creature but not one of them punctures its tough hide.</p><p></p><p>The Thoqqua thrashes wildly trying to lash out and back round to catch Dartamor who skitters out of the way, more afraid of the second volley of bolts and arrows that will soon be heading in his general, possibly even specific, direction.</p><p></p><p>The Thoqqua can’t reach any of them, and being a sensible worm it does the next best thing, it retreats back into its burrow at maximum speed.</p><p></p><p>FWOOOM-THUNK</p><p></p><p>Its Saradomin again, his crossbow fires and sends a six inch steel bolt hurtling down the burrow, and smack-bang into the fiery creature, a fatal blow, again, the creature expires in an anti-climatic poof of smoke.</p><p></p><p>The Priest sinks to one knee, makes to pray, then thinks better of it and instead punches the air, “get in there- I’m ace.”</p><p></p><p>Aleso looks put out, holds his right hand up high, like a child wanting to be excused to go to the bathroom, “splinter”, he announces, his hand looks fine, he sucks a finger and mimes the word ‘ow’ a few times, hops from foot to foot, as if in genuine pain, for good measure.</p><p></p><p>“Do you want me to take a look?” Jerky offers his services all concerned.</p><p>“No, s’all right- got it.” The Paladin declares and holds aloft a tiny fragment of nothing, then feigns fumbling it- the evidence is lost.</p><p></p><p>“Must of distracted me.” He declares. “Good shot.” He mutters at a still crowing Saradomin and then wanders back to the doorway. </p><p></p><p>Next Turn: The nonexistent tentacled horror.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Goonalan, post: 3912114, member: 16069"] Turn 7.1 Bit the Next “Wow… I mean… Wow… Big.” Saradomin pronounces every syllable of the word ‘big.’ The Bar-B-Q over the Lost Boys have made their way back the way they came and through the only other door that has not yet been explored, the one that Grand Alf found, then through a very very small ante-room, and another door, and into a huge chamber. Nodules of luminescent fungus hang from the ceiling and walls, and grow in clumps upon the flagged floor. The vaguely nauseous light illuminates portions of grand bas-relief carvings on the stone walls that are not covered with the self-same fungus. The carvings are themed, the theme being dragons in various poses raining down fire upon terrified humans, elves, dwarves and others. Soil and compost cover the near half of the huge chamber’s floor, which allows a variety of wan grasses to grow. A bench containing simple gardening implements stands along the west wall, there’s a door in the north wall- close by. “Bleeeurgh.” Grand Alf spits and hawks for a moment and then comes to his senses, “this fungus tastes rotten.” To which there’s no answer. Dartamor shakes his head and wanders over to the door, to check it over, and see if he can make it open. Jerky follows him over, warily spying the Sorcerer for his next foolish move. He doesn’t have to wait long. Grand Alf’s off, in hot pursuit, and to the table crammed with gardening implements which is being pawed over by Saradomin and Aleso, the Sorcerer grabs at a wooden handle, hefts his new find aloft for all to see. It’s a garden fork. The Sorcerer dodges about a bit, parries imaginary blows with the haft of the fork, and then, as quick as… well fairly quickly, delivers a stabbing blow to his imaginary foe. “Take that.” Grand Alf holds the fork aloft and then dances a little in triumph, somewhat inured to his antics only Jerky bothers to watch the charade. “Grand Alf’s Staff of Earth… Forking? No, that’s not it. I’ll work on it. I’d like to meet the fiend that could stand up to me with…” Grand Alf struggles to heft the spade in his off hand, eventually gets it balanced. “… These.” He finishers and then delivers a left-right series of… oh he falls over. “I meant to do that.” He states as he clambers back to his feet, “get them off their guard.” He tries the manoeuvre again, perfect, nearly- well at least he stayed on his feet this time. “Bloody fool.” Saradomin whispers to Aleso, the pair have at last seen fit to provide all the audience Grand Alf needs, the Paladin nods back- which is about the first thing they’ve agreed on. “Door open.” Dartamor is as good as his word, there’s another chamber beyond, a mirror of the one they stand in, Jerky shuts the door again, “let’s check this one out first”, the Rogue nods. And so the sextet, including a lumbering Bernard (with one arm remember), trot over to a door in an alcove on the east wall. Dartamor gets to work and soon after opens the thing, and into a smaller but equally odd-looking chamber. Luminescent mists blur the edges of this octagonal room. Nodules of glowing fungus dot the stone walls and ceiling, as well as the caps of toad-stools and mushrooms, small polyps, puffballs, lichens and other less identifiable growths. The humid air reeks of rot. “Have you farted?” Grand Alf giggles, holds his nose, and points at Aleso. The Paladin looks, well… stern. “MAY PELOR FORGIVE YOUR FOOLISH MUMBLINGS MAGE.” The Paladin strides a little into the chamber, holds his nose and smothers a giggle, all the time pointing at Saradomin’s back, and waving away the aforementioned, trump-like, aroma. Saradomin eventually turns around to stare at the two giggling buffoons, and shrugs, he turns back, and points- “there’s a light coming from that hole on the wall over there… the one next to the other hole… which is next to the other… hole… sssss.” The chamber is riddled with holes, like the Bar-B-Q chamber earlier, one of the holes is glowing, like the… you get the idea. “Oh, it’s…” Saradomin starts. And. “Watch Out.” Aleso cautions. But it’s all too late; Dartamor rushes for the nearest wall, flattens himself against it and sidles around till he’s just to the side of the glowing hole. Grand Alf has other ideas. “Come on and get a good forking.” The Sorcerer merrily capers, fork in hands, a little way in front of the hole. “I’m gonna fork you.” The capering continues unabated for a while, then ends with a half-turn and a jiggling bottom in the direction of the illuminated hole. “This is madness.” Jerky stares open mouthed. Aleso concentrates his gaze on the Gnome, looks puzzled a while, “What’s your point?” he asks. Saradomin eventually breaks the deadlock, sees sense, “Grand Alf do it again, lure it to us- get it real mad.” Eagerly the Sorcerer nods, runs through a few silent epithets, and then begins his capering again, screaming. “I AM THE FORKER…” And is engulfed in flame, and worm, of course. “It’s coming.” Saradomin yells, they say the secret of great comedy is timing, the Priest of St. Cuthbert smiles contentedly. “Ow. OW. OW. BURNY.” Grand Alf immediately, and on purpose, flings himself away from the worm, he's on fire, on purpose- he meant to do it, you understand. “BURNY. BURNY.” He screams and has what looks to be a titanic seizure, flapping the flames out with his flailing arms and hands. His lab coat is ruined… more ruined… whatever. DMs Interlude- the Thoqqua’s adjusted initiative roll was 4, you’ll see why this is important, or not, much later. Dartamor lances his rapier out, and in, and through the worm, golden molten ichor spews from the wound, the worm thrashes as the Rogue pulls out his blade. The remaining three religious types sprout ranged weapons and fire, all three missiles strike the creature but not one of them punctures its tough hide. The Thoqqua thrashes wildly trying to lash out and back round to catch Dartamor who skitters out of the way, more afraid of the second volley of bolts and arrows that will soon be heading in his general, possibly even specific, direction. The Thoqqua can’t reach any of them, and being a sensible worm it does the next best thing, it retreats back into its burrow at maximum speed. FWOOOM-THUNK Its Saradomin again, his crossbow fires and sends a six inch steel bolt hurtling down the burrow, and smack-bang into the fiery creature, a fatal blow, again, the creature expires in an anti-climatic poof of smoke. The Priest sinks to one knee, makes to pray, then thinks better of it and instead punches the air, “get in there- I’m ace.” Aleso looks put out, holds his right hand up high, like a child wanting to be excused to go to the bathroom, “splinter”, he announces, his hand looks fine, he sucks a finger and mimes the word ‘ow’ a few times, hops from foot to foot, as if in genuine pain, for good measure. “Do you want me to take a look?” Jerky offers his services all concerned. “No, s’all right- got it.” The Paladin declares and holds aloft a tiny fragment of nothing, then feigns fumbling it- the evidence is lost. “Must of distracted me.” He declares. “Good shot.” He mutters at a still crowing Saradomin and then wanders back to the doorway. Next Turn: The nonexistent tentacled horror. [/QUOTE]
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