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The Swordlands - updated 28th May; The Hanged Man
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<blockquote data-quote="Mathew_Freeman" data-source="post: 4716161" data-attributes="member: 1846"><p><strong>A Poor Choice of Diet</strong></p><p></p><p>As the Trollkin stepped up smartly and cut a small piece of cake from the main part, Sigurd acted quickly. Disguising her actions as best she could, she attempted to use magic to cause the most poisonous part of the cake – the icing – to fall off the top and spill to the floor. Misjudging her power, however, she yanked it too hard and it spun through the air towards the Vizier. Grinning, the Vizier snatched it out of the air and sniffed it suspiciously. Finding it to his liking, he stretched out and slammed it back on to the piece that the increasingly-nervous Trollkin was clutching.</p><p></p><p>“Eat! Eat! Eat!” he said.</p><p></p><p>Staring around him, the Trollkin placed the cake in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. A few seconds went by whilst all eyes (save one of Kindrbode’s, which was staring at one of the Ogres) were focused on him. Obviously feeling that something more was expected of him, he grunted something in Orcish.</p><p></p><p>“Tastes of almonds,” translated Sigurd, her ritual spell still working.</p><p></p><p>Apparently satisfied that the cake was poison-free, the Prince lunged forwards and, with both arms, grabbed the rest of it. Almost unhinging his jaw, he opened his mouth wide and with ten seconds, the whole cake had turned into nothing more than a fine shower of crumbs on the floor. He belched, hugely, sending a wave of foul gases across the room and grinned widely. The Vizier, his interest waning, waved the party back down the stairs.</p><p></p><p>Keeping a very careful eye on both the Trollkin and the Prince, Iben, Thunder, Aldis, Aengus and Sigurd back oh-so-slowly down the stairs, not daring to turn their backs. Step. Step. Step. Step.</p><p></p><p>As they reached the bottom, the Trollkin suddenly burped. The Vizier’s head snapped round to stare at him. The Trollkin staggered, clutching its stomach. Something seemed to be moving under its clothes, pushing against the skin. The Trollkin swallowed hard, burped again, and then paused for a second in disbelief.</p><p></p><p>There was a moment of stillness on the dais. Then a large rat-head poked out of the Trollkin’s mouth, sniffing the air. It was quickly joined by a second, and in a shower of gore six more clawed their way out of the creature’s stomach, chittering and scurrying onto the floor. The Vizier yelled and shoved the Trollkin off the dais as it dropped to the floor, watching it fall and split into a further group of rats when it hit the grill below. “Treachery!” screamed the Vizier. “Kill them! Kill all the humans!”</p><p></p><p>“Honestly,” said Aengus quietly to Thunder at the bottom of the stairs. “You’d think they’d be able to tell the difference between a human and an Eladrin.”</p><p></p><p>“Tell me about it,” replied the Warforged.</p><p></p><p>All over the Hall, Orcs, Ogres, Humans, Warforged, Eladrin, Gnomes and the Sytaxis drew weapons and prepared to go into battle. Prince Kindrbode got to his feet, ponderously, to observe the mayhem. Lifting his hand, he opened his mouth to give the final order to attack.</p><p></p><p>From his position on the wall above him, just getting ready to either drop off weapons-first or try and manipulate the many levers at the back of the hall, Karl saw a small rat head poke out between Kindrbode’s teeth.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: orange">Note: We were oh-so-nervous at this point. What we wanted to happen was that Kindrbode would eat the cake immediately, die, so that we could mob the Vizier and friends before the Orcs and Ogres could make it up the stairs. Of course, our best laid plans were brought to naught as crater wound us up for as long as possible.</span></p><p><span style="color: orange"></span></p><p><span style="color: orange">la_bete, playing Karl, made the decision to go up on the wall because he knew he would be missing the next session. This allowed crater to Karl do 'behind-the-scenes' stuff with him.</span></p><p><span style="color: orange"></span></p><p><span style="color: orange">Next time: The Battle of Thruthgelmir! Who's heading for a fall?</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mathew_Freeman, post: 4716161, member: 1846"] [b]A Poor Choice of Diet[/b] As the Trollkin stepped up smartly and cut a small piece of cake from the main part, Sigurd acted quickly. Disguising her actions as best she could, she attempted to use magic to cause the most poisonous part of the cake – the icing – to fall off the top and spill to the floor. Misjudging her power, however, she yanked it too hard and it spun through the air towards the Vizier. Grinning, the Vizier snatched it out of the air and sniffed it suspiciously. Finding it to his liking, he stretched out and slammed it back on to the piece that the increasingly-nervous Trollkin was clutching. “Eat! Eat! Eat!” he said. Staring around him, the Trollkin placed the cake in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. A few seconds went by whilst all eyes (save one of Kindrbode’s, which was staring at one of the Ogres) were focused on him. Obviously feeling that something more was expected of him, he grunted something in Orcish. “Tastes of almonds,” translated Sigurd, her ritual spell still working. Apparently satisfied that the cake was poison-free, the Prince lunged forwards and, with both arms, grabbed the rest of it. Almost unhinging his jaw, he opened his mouth wide and with ten seconds, the whole cake had turned into nothing more than a fine shower of crumbs on the floor. He belched, hugely, sending a wave of foul gases across the room and grinned widely. The Vizier, his interest waning, waved the party back down the stairs. Keeping a very careful eye on both the Trollkin and the Prince, Iben, Thunder, Aldis, Aengus and Sigurd back oh-so-slowly down the stairs, not daring to turn their backs. Step. Step. Step. Step. As they reached the bottom, the Trollkin suddenly burped. The Vizier’s head snapped round to stare at him. The Trollkin staggered, clutching its stomach. Something seemed to be moving under its clothes, pushing against the skin. The Trollkin swallowed hard, burped again, and then paused for a second in disbelief. There was a moment of stillness on the dais. Then a large rat-head poked out of the Trollkin’s mouth, sniffing the air. It was quickly joined by a second, and in a shower of gore six more clawed their way out of the creature’s stomach, chittering and scurrying onto the floor. The Vizier yelled and shoved the Trollkin off the dais as it dropped to the floor, watching it fall and split into a further group of rats when it hit the grill below. “Treachery!” screamed the Vizier. “Kill them! Kill all the humans!” “Honestly,” said Aengus quietly to Thunder at the bottom of the stairs. “You’d think they’d be able to tell the difference between a human and an Eladrin.” “Tell me about it,” replied the Warforged. All over the Hall, Orcs, Ogres, Humans, Warforged, Eladrin, Gnomes and the Sytaxis drew weapons and prepared to go into battle. Prince Kindrbode got to his feet, ponderously, to observe the mayhem. Lifting his hand, he opened his mouth to give the final order to attack. From his position on the wall above him, just getting ready to either drop off weapons-first or try and manipulate the many levers at the back of the hall, Karl saw a small rat head poke out between Kindrbode’s teeth. [color=orange]Note: We were oh-so-nervous at this point. What we wanted to happen was that Kindrbode would eat the cake immediately, die, so that we could mob the Vizier and friends before the Orcs and Ogres could make it up the stairs. Of course, our best laid plans were brought to naught as crater wound us up for as long as possible. la_bete, playing Karl, made the decision to go up on the wall because he knew he would be missing the next session. This allowed crater to Karl do 'behind-the-scenes' stuff with him. Next time: The Battle of Thruthgelmir! Who's heading for a fall?[/color] [/QUOTE]
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