JollyDoc's Shackled City
Lela
First Post
gfunk said:
I hope you didn't fail the save. That would be like being killed by a blind kobald or something.
Oh, I tried mixing Spell Focus (Enchantment) and the Tyranny domain to get my players with Dominate Person (they're 14th or so). The DC was 28 and every made it. The Fighter (who's always easy to Dominate) rolled a 19. Dangit.
I'll pop up with Dominate Monster later.
No he can't talk to snakes. To be quite honest, I have never even read one of the Harry Potter books, but it was brought to my attention that I had "stolen" one of the names from the series.
I actually got Salazar out of the Typical Names List in the front of the FRCS. Unlike Gfunk ("Pez", "Entropy"), I am pretty much incapable of coming up with good names without borrowing them from somewhere else, but if I had known that Salazar was from such a popular serial, I would have gone with something less recognizable or commercial...like "Logan" (j/k).
Oh, well, c'est la vi. All of the names of my old characters have pretty much been stolen from somewhere (Alphar, Joachim, et al).
P.S. Dropping the Dragon Disciple and then casting Hold Person on him was pretty fun
I actually got Salazar out of the Typical Names List in the front of the FRCS. Unlike Gfunk ("Pez", "Entropy"), I am pretty much incapable of coming up with good names without borrowing them from somewhere else, but if I had known that Salazar was from such a popular serial, I would have gone with something less recognizable or commercial...like "Logan" (j/k).
Oh, well, c'est la vi. All of the names of my old characters have pretty much been stolen from somewhere (Alphar, Joachim, et al).
P.S. Dropping the Dragon Disciple and then casting Hold Person on him was pretty fun
JollyDoc
Explorer
DESPITE ALL MY RAGE, I AM STILL JUST A RAT IN A CAGE
Pez rushed to the fallen creature and heaved its carcass aside. Tilly lay unmoving beneath it, but to Pez infinite relief, he was still breathing, and shortly his eyes fluttered open. “Wow…did I do that?” he asked in a wheezy voice as he raised himself on one elbow and eyed the mutilated remains warily.
“Aye, that ye did lad,” Rusty laughed as he came down the stairs carrying Sal’s limp form, “with a little help from me hammer, and that pointy eared feller’s toothpicks. Don’t be worryin’ about yer friend here. He’ll be right as rain in a few minutes, and the elf as well. Grell poison’s potent stuff, but it wears off quick.”
“Grell?” Pez asked.
“Yep, that’s what yon beastie was. Lives in caves and the like. Waits around fer unwary sorts…like yerself…to pass by, then they drop on’em, paralyze’em quick, and tuck’em away fer a snack later. Count yerself lucky boy.”
As Rusty said, Oso and Salazar revived in due course, chagrined, but none the worse for wear. A thorough search of the chamber revealed nothing of value, and they seemed no closer to finding a path to the Malachite Fortress. Sal tried to recall the details of the map they had seen earlier, and it seemed that east of this room lay a series of passages and other rooms they had not yet explored.
“We should keep moving,” he said, shouldering his pack and heading for the far side of the room, “If we don’t find something soon, we’re going to have to backtrack to the beginning and start searching all over again.”
The prospect of spending any more time in Jzadirune than necessary wasn’t appealing to anyone, and so they continued on. The corridors and tunnels all began to blend together before long, one looking very much like another. Still there search was fruitless. At last they arrived at the end of a hallway blocked by another of the ubiquitous gear doors.
“Well, this is it,” Sal said with a sigh, “As near as I can tell, beyond this door is the last room on the map that we haven’t been in. Brace yourselves men, we might have to fight off another horde of dust bunnies. Tilly, the key please.”
As the great door rolled away, the room beyond seemed to be some sort of armory, with empty weapon racks lining the walls. In the middle of the floor rested a large wooden chest with a flat lid and iron hinges. Atop the chest was a small, silver cage holding a rat with a white, star-shaped splotch of fur on its tiny forehead. It gripped the bars and stared at the group, squeaking excitedly.
“Well, well, well,” Pez said smugly with his hands on his hips. He walked slowly around the cage and the chest. “I suppose this is what all the fuss has been about. This is what’s worth selling a couple of dozen of your fellow townsfolk into slavery.” He leaned over and tapped on the cage, “I hope you know all the trouble you’ve caused little fellow. Your master has a lot of explaining to do.” The rat continued to chitter animatedly at Pez, waving its paws around frantically.
“If I didn’t know better, Pez,” Sal noted, “I’d say the little bugger was trying to tell you something.”
“Hmm…,” Pez murmured. The filthy gnome did say the rat was his familiar. Perhaps it was more than it appeared to be. Pez allowed his thoughts to drift as he summoned a small, but very valuable ability that was another gift of his divine heritage…the gift of tongues. As he cleared his head, and focused on the room again, he heard distinct, high-pitched words coming from the rat now.
“My master! Where is my master? Is he safe? Are you here to rescue me?”
“So you can speak,” Pez said in amazement, but to most of the others, it sounded like gibberish. To Rusty, however, it was very familiar. “That’s Undercommon yer speakin’,” he growled, “the tongue of the Underworld. I’d be careful who I used them words around.”
Pez turned back to the rat, “You are Starbrow, I presume. Your master is quite safe, I assure you. He is a…guest…of the temple of Tyr at the moment, and he is anxiously awaiting your return. We will indeed let you out of here, but first, you must tell me what you have seen during your imprisonment.”
“Skulks,” the rat squeaked, “and creepers. They come and go, sometimes bringing town people with them.”
“Where do they take the people?” Pez asked eagerly.
“Thru the door…there!”
Pez looked where the rat indicated, but could see no portal. Perhaps another hidden one. “Oso,” he said, “take a look around that area. See if you can find anything. Have you seen any other creatures helping the skulks?” he asked Starbrow.
“Goblins,” the rat answered.
“Interesting,” said Pez, and then he had a sudden thought, “Are there any enemies in this room now? Hidden?”
“That depends on whom you consider an enemy” Pez nearly jumped out of his skin, for this voice had not come from Starbrow. The language was Undercommon, but it seemed to come from below him. He glanced down quickly, and saw that a large, toothy mouth had appeared in the front of the chest, and it now grinned up at him.
“Who…what…are you!?” he asked in alarm, quickly taking several steps back. The others quickly gathered around, unsheathing weapons.
“I am merely a guardian,” the chest replied, “set here to guard your furry friend. I’m afraid I can’t let you just take him.”
“Well in that case,” Pez said, making no pretense at diplomacy, “I’m afraid you’ll have to be neutralized.”
“Heh, heh, heh,” the chest chuckled as two heavily muscled arms suddenly protruded from its sides, “you and what army?”
Pez gripped his sword tightly, and stepped towards the strange creature. He swung the blade up in a long arc, and then brought it around in a sweeping blow that would have cleaved any normal wooden chest in two. He felt his weapon sink into the side of the chest, though it felt more like flesh than wood, but when he tried to retract his strike, he found that the sword was stuck fast.
Meanwhile, Salazar had uncoiled a heavy, spiked chain from his backpack. He stood back several feet and whipped it towards the monster, burying the sharp hook into its top. He too was unable to reclaim his weapon though. It was held, and no amount of tugging could free it.
Tilly attempted to somersault around behind the chest, but succeeded only in tangling his feet together and falling forward awkwardly, his shortsword somehow managing to stab into the creature before being wrenched out of his hand.
Simultaneously, Rusty whirled his hammer in for a solid hit, and with a mighty heave was able to pull it free from the beast’s sticky hide. Oso stood against the far wall, and fired two arrows at their opponent. His arrows were true, but they seemed to be mired in tar after they hit.
The creature seemed to feel the impact of their blows. It yowled in pain and fury, and a sticky substance resembling tree sap poured from the various wounds in its hide. Enraged, it swung a mighty fist towards Pez, lifting the warrior several inches off the floor as it connected with his mid-section. Its large hand then closed around Pez’ breastplate and yanked him forward, sticking him firmly against its side.
The company continued to try and free themselves and their weapons from the chest monster, but to no avail. Tilly still had his dagger free, and Rusty could still bring his hammer to bear. Between them, they managed to deal enough damage to the creature to cause it to cease its struggles. It collapsed into a pile of amorphous goo, releasing Pez and the equipment of his companions.
“You might have tried talking with it more, you know?” Sal said, scowling at Pez, “It may have been able to tell us something about the forces we’ll be facing in the Fortress.”
“Since when have you started taking the advice of furniture?” Pez asked incredulously, “Oh, I forgot. You’re a thief! Of course you’d believe a talking treasure chest!”
“Who are you calling thief?” Tilly shouted, his voice going up another octave.
“Now, now boys,” Rusty said, stepping into the midst of the three, “Yer lettin’ the strain get to ye. I seen it before…dungeon fever. Ye need be settlin’ yerselves down. Have a drink before I knock some sense into the lot o’ya!” he brandished his hammer threateningly in one hand, and a large flask in the other.
“I’ve found something,” Oso suddenly interrupted, and indeed he now stood next to an opening in the formerly blank wall. An octagonal room lay on the other side, its floor not made of stone, but rather a wooden platform supported by taut iron chains looped over eight enormous pulleys bolted to the ceiling. One end of each chain was fastened to a corner of the platform, while the other end dropped through a hole in the middle, connected to something far below…
Pez rushed to the fallen creature and heaved its carcass aside. Tilly lay unmoving beneath it, but to Pez infinite relief, he was still breathing, and shortly his eyes fluttered open. “Wow…did I do that?” he asked in a wheezy voice as he raised himself on one elbow and eyed the mutilated remains warily.
“Aye, that ye did lad,” Rusty laughed as he came down the stairs carrying Sal’s limp form, “with a little help from me hammer, and that pointy eared feller’s toothpicks. Don’t be worryin’ about yer friend here. He’ll be right as rain in a few minutes, and the elf as well. Grell poison’s potent stuff, but it wears off quick.”
“Grell?” Pez asked.
“Yep, that’s what yon beastie was. Lives in caves and the like. Waits around fer unwary sorts…like yerself…to pass by, then they drop on’em, paralyze’em quick, and tuck’em away fer a snack later. Count yerself lucky boy.”
As Rusty said, Oso and Salazar revived in due course, chagrined, but none the worse for wear. A thorough search of the chamber revealed nothing of value, and they seemed no closer to finding a path to the Malachite Fortress. Sal tried to recall the details of the map they had seen earlier, and it seemed that east of this room lay a series of passages and other rooms they had not yet explored.
“We should keep moving,” he said, shouldering his pack and heading for the far side of the room, “If we don’t find something soon, we’re going to have to backtrack to the beginning and start searching all over again.”
The prospect of spending any more time in Jzadirune than necessary wasn’t appealing to anyone, and so they continued on. The corridors and tunnels all began to blend together before long, one looking very much like another. Still there search was fruitless. At last they arrived at the end of a hallway blocked by another of the ubiquitous gear doors.
“Well, this is it,” Sal said with a sigh, “As near as I can tell, beyond this door is the last room on the map that we haven’t been in. Brace yourselves men, we might have to fight off another horde of dust bunnies. Tilly, the key please.”
As the great door rolled away, the room beyond seemed to be some sort of armory, with empty weapon racks lining the walls. In the middle of the floor rested a large wooden chest with a flat lid and iron hinges. Atop the chest was a small, silver cage holding a rat with a white, star-shaped splotch of fur on its tiny forehead. It gripped the bars and stared at the group, squeaking excitedly.
“Well, well, well,” Pez said smugly with his hands on his hips. He walked slowly around the cage and the chest. “I suppose this is what all the fuss has been about. This is what’s worth selling a couple of dozen of your fellow townsfolk into slavery.” He leaned over and tapped on the cage, “I hope you know all the trouble you’ve caused little fellow. Your master has a lot of explaining to do.” The rat continued to chitter animatedly at Pez, waving its paws around frantically.
“If I didn’t know better, Pez,” Sal noted, “I’d say the little bugger was trying to tell you something.”
“Hmm…,” Pez murmured. The filthy gnome did say the rat was his familiar. Perhaps it was more than it appeared to be. Pez allowed his thoughts to drift as he summoned a small, but very valuable ability that was another gift of his divine heritage…the gift of tongues. As he cleared his head, and focused on the room again, he heard distinct, high-pitched words coming from the rat now.
“My master! Where is my master? Is he safe? Are you here to rescue me?”
“So you can speak,” Pez said in amazement, but to most of the others, it sounded like gibberish. To Rusty, however, it was very familiar. “That’s Undercommon yer speakin’,” he growled, “the tongue of the Underworld. I’d be careful who I used them words around.”
Pez turned back to the rat, “You are Starbrow, I presume. Your master is quite safe, I assure you. He is a…guest…of the temple of Tyr at the moment, and he is anxiously awaiting your return. We will indeed let you out of here, but first, you must tell me what you have seen during your imprisonment.”
“Skulks,” the rat squeaked, “and creepers. They come and go, sometimes bringing town people with them.”
“Where do they take the people?” Pez asked eagerly.
“Thru the door…there!”
Pez looked where the rat indicated, but could see no portal. Perhaps another hidden one. “Oso,” he said, “take a look around that area. See if you can find anything. Have you seen any other creatures helping the skulks?” he asked Starbrow.
“Goblins,” the rat answered.
“Interesting,” said Pez, and then he had a sudden thought, “Are there any enemies in this room now? Hidden?”
“That depends on whom you consider an enemy” Pez nearly jumped out of his skin, for this voice had not come from Starbrow. The language was Undercommon, but it seemed to come from below him. He glanced down quickly, and saw that a large, toothy mouth had appeared in the front of the chest, and it now grinned up at him.
“Who…what…are you!?” he asked in alarm, quickly taking several steps back. The others quickly gathered around, unsheathing weapons.
“I am merely a guardian,” the chest replied, “set here to guard your furry friend. I’m afraid I can’t let you just take him.”
“Well in that case,” Pez said, making no pretense at diplomacy, “I’m afraid you’ll have to be neutralized.”
“Heh, heh, heh,” the chest chuckled as two heavily muscled arms suddenly protruded from its sides, “you and what army?”
Pez gripped his sword tightly, and stepped towards the strange creature. He swung the blade up in a long arc, and then brought it around in a sweeping blow that would have cleaved any normal wooden chest in two. He felt his weapon sink into the side of the chest, though it felt more like flesh than wood, but when he tried to retract his strike, he found that the sword was stuck fast.
Meanwhile, Salazar had uncoiled a heavy, spiked chain from his backpack. He stood back several feet and whipped it towards the monster, burying the sharp hook into its top. He too was unable to reclaim his weapon though. It was held, and no amount of tugging could free it.
Tilly attempted to somersault around behind the chest, but succeeded only in tangling his feet together and falling forward awkwardly, his shortsword somehow managing to stab into the creature before being wrenched out of his hand.
Simultaneously, Rusty whirled his hammer in for a solid hit, and with a mighty heave was able to pull it free from the beast’s sticky hide. Oso stood against the far wall, and fired two arrows at their opponent. His arrows were true, but they seemed to be mired in tar after they hit.
The creature seemed to feel the impact of their blows. It yowled in pain and fury, and a sticky substance resembling tree sap poured from the various wounds in its hide. Enraged, it swung a mighty fist towards Pez, lifting the warrior several inches off the floor as it connected with his mid-section. Its large hand then closed around Pez’ breastplate and yanked him forward, sticking him firmly against its side.
The company continued to try and free themselves and their weapons from the chest monster, but to no avail. Tilly still had his dagger free, and Rusty could still bring his hammer to bear. Between them, they managed to deal enough damage to the creature to cause it to cease its struggles. It collapsed into a pile of amorphous goo, releasing Pez and the equipment of his companions.
“You might have tried talking with it more, you know?” Sal said, scowling at Pez, “It may have been able to tell us something about the forces we’ll be facing in the Fortress.”
“Since when have you started taking the advice of furniture?” Pez asked incredulously, “Oh, I forgot. You’re a thief! Of course you’d believe a talking treasure chest!”
“Who are you calling thief?” Tilly shouted, his voice going up another octave.
“Now, now boys,” Rusty said, stepping into the midst of the three, “Yer lettin’ the strain get to ye. I seen it before…dungeon fever. Ye need be settlin’ yerselves down. Have a drink before I knock some sense into the lot o’ya!” he brandished his hammer threateningly in one hand, and a large flask in the other.
“I’ve found something,” Oso suddenly interrupted, and indeed he now stood next to an opening in the formerly blank wall. An octagonal room lay on the other side, its floor not made of stone, but rather a wooden platform supported by taut iron chains looped over eight enormous pulleys bolted to the ceiling. One end of each chain was fastened to a corner of the platform, while the other end dropped through a hole in the middle, connected to something far below…
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