Auntie Edie & The Professor


Frangipani Basket thought himself a good soul, loyal to his friends, eager to help others, a good listener, kind, caring, considerate. He hated the way they had become though, since the advent of the outsiders, and in particular- HIM. He remembered with fondness what it used to be like in the mine, how the time passed so swiftly, sure the work was hard but it gave purpose to his existence, helped to define him, make him feel important, a part of the collective- the food was good as well, and the comradeship. He felt something warm inside- friends, he loved the chat, the banter, the songs, the fact that they worked together- and yet, seemingly, as one. He remembered the face of his best friend Simon Chaffinch, his crooked smile, his pudgy nose, one ear slightly lower than the other, the twinkle in his eye, that spark of life, he drifted a little.

It was hard work, the mining, it left him calloused and sore, and yet the thought of it brought a tear to his eye. He missed it madly. He took up his journal again, trying desperately to think of something good to write.

The moment passed.

He put the book down, a noise…


The door is smashed open.

Strange he thought. I wonder what…


For some odd reason he only caught the first syllable of the explosion. I’ve got a splitting headache he thought; he reaches up to touch the spot only to discover the top half of his head is missing.

I’m dead he thought. Then no more.

“Goblins, dearie.”

The Professor nods, adjusts his cravat, Auntie Edie clunk-clicks another cartridge into the chamber of her Heckler & Koch, fires again from her one good, titanium and cobalt chrome, hip.


The last Goblin, soaked through with the blood of his former compatriots, scrambles and slips to his feet, wrenches open the door in front of him and flees screaming.


“Where’s he off to?” Auntie Edie adjusts her dress, one of her slippers has come off, she bends to retrieve it, “oooow, my back”, and then straightens up, errant slipper back in place.

The Professor, a tall thin late middle-aged man, well-dressed, a dapper gent, with a tailored suit, a crisp white hankie in pocket- folded just-so, a nice hat, a Homburg- new, set at a somewhat jaunty angle; he shuffles over to where Frangipani Basket was sitting, lifts up and then scans through the Goblin’s journal. “I think he’s going to get his friends.” He offers, not looking up, and then reads on.

“Oh- that’ll be nice.”

Auntie Edie watches The Professor for a moment, “what’s it say, the book?”

The Professor clears his throat and then reads, affecting an accent.

“I av not et Simon Chaffinch, he iz ded ryt enuff, but I dyd not et im- onest.”

He stops reading.

“That’s nice.” Auntie states and then looks around at the bloody tangle that surrounds them.

“So this is the guardroom?”
“Was, my dear lady- was the guardroom.”

The Professor dives into his pockets produces, a pen, a cigarette lighter, and a cigarette case, he shuffles them in his hands until they come apart and then come back together again, in a new shape. He bends low, retrieves something from a hitherto unseen compartment within the heel of his shoe, a pair of highly polished brown Brogues. Continues to twist and shape the objects in his hands- seconds later he’s finished, smoking a Gitanes, and holding what seems to be a pistol in his hand.

“They’re coming.” He states, cigarette bobbing.
“What?” I’m a little deaf, dearie.” Auntie replies.
“I said madam- they are coming.” He pronounces every word, in perfect English, for good measure he nods towards the door through which the surviving Goblin fled.

“Oh.” Auntie turns to look at the door, then back again at The Professor, “that’s a nice hat you’ve got- is it new?”
The Professor nods and grins. “Yes, Auntie it is, thank you.”

Auntie rummages in her handbag comes out with a much abused paper bag, she reaches out to The Professor. “Want a toffee? Sticks to yer teef.” She grins and clacks her dentures.

From beyond the open door comes the sound of screams- if not warlike then certainly fractious.

The Professor, hands up, declines. Auntie looks inside the bag, decides better of it, and stows the sweets.

The approaching screams are much louder now.

“I do believe they’re coming, and by the sound of things there are quite a few of them- madam.” He half-bows and points towards the door.

Auntie Edie shuffles over, nearer to the opening, grabs at a section of her weapon below the barrel, clunk-clicks a… well not a cartridge, something bigger, something that makes a throatier noise, into the chamber, hoists the Heckler slightly. And fires.


Something spins out in a flash and…


Explodes momentarily creating a fireball, the flash of light illuminates fully Auntie Edie, pronounced E-D, in all her splendour; a very short, very old lady, balancing a hat brimming with fruit, in a yellow with pink flowers dress, support stockings, and a crumpled pair of tartan slippers, a large handbag over her shoulder tucked tight under her arm.

“I’m 87 you know.” She states to the fragments of Goblins that decorate the corridor beyond.

Next week: A nice cup of tea and an Auntie massacre.

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Turn 2: A nice cup of tea and an Auntie massacre.

“There seems to be a door here, concealed.” The Professor taps his cane on the stone wall.

Jaffa Spandex, presses his ear against the cool stone of the secret door, turns back to Arthur Pint who’s a way back down the corridor, silhouetted in the light spilling from the auxiliary guard room.

“Definitely sumefing. I heard a boom.”

Arthur nods, “Tek a look den.”

Jaffa nods back, turns and wrenches the door open, finds himself, like the song says, staring down the barrel of a gun.


Jaffa Spandex takes his leave of this mortal coil, while Arthur Pint’s face is pebble-dashed by shot.

Arthur screams, scrabbles at his stinging, cratered features.


Arthur falls to his knees, a neat hole bored in his temple.

The Professor, still pointing his pistol, grins at Auntie Edie, “over to you madam.”

Auntie grins back, clunk-clicks the Heckler and shuffles forward down the newly found corridor, ahead two Goblins dive into the corridor, snarling.

One of them gawks, the other charges.


Neither get far.

Auntie shuffles into the auxiliary guardroom, The Professor follows. A somewhat neater room, a few tables and make-shift chairs, overturned crates and barrels and the like.

Auntie shuffles over, flops off a slipper and massages her foot, “bunions”, she states and continues massaging. The Professor smiles warmly then sits himself down, “take your time Auntie, I shall amuse myself for a moment.” He pulls off his hat, reaches inside, pulls out a tattered and dog-eared novel, George Orwell’s ‘1985- Big Brother is back’, and reads a while.

Time passes.

Eventually Auntie stirs, replaces her slipper, and fetches from her handbag a flask of tea, she pours a cup, gestures to The Professor- “do you want a cup?”, he looks up, smiles and declines the offer with a friendly wave.

Auntie blows on her steaming tea, then stirs an extra sugar in- from the chunky glass sugar bowl she lifts out of her handbag, she slurps. “I wish I had a biscuit, I could murder a jammy-dodger.”

The Professor’s watch ticks on- marks time.

At last, cup empty, Auntie replaces the flask and clears up behind her with a damp cloth, once again taken from her handbag.

“So what are we here for again?” She asks.
The Professor shuts his book, after first marking the page, replaces it in his hat, and places his hat on his head, stands, checks and straightens his cuffs. “Silver.” He states.
“That’s it… What for? I mean why do they want silver?”
“Who knows madam, I think the ‘authorities’ are enamoured with all forms of precious metals, it must be something to do with the ‘Timeline’, or else they’re simply out to line their own pockets. Personally, I wouldn’t put it past them. Avaricious swine that they are; no aesthetics, men of limited faculty, you understand, our masters.” The Professor arches his eyebrows and stare-smiles into space, winks at something unseen… at us?
Auntie giggles, “Careful, you’ll get us in trouble.”
“I’m sure they’ll just edit it out, sadly.” The Professor grimaces.

He retrieves his cane, there are two doors out of the chamber, he points at one, then the other, “any preference Auntie?”
“No, you choose.”
“Very good, this way.”

Some distance away a group of Goblins huddle.

“I eard somefing, mayd me feyt wobble, der flure wobble.” Waistband Flex is a jerk, dumb, even for a Goblin, and smelly, he could have been an Outsider, except they wouldn’t have him.
“Alright then, let da rats art. See-if dey can smell owt.” Da Ratmeister decides, he’d been promoted to Rat-Keeper soon after the Outsiders arrival; the order had come from- HIM. He hated the fact that the rats had better food than his compatriots, he liked the fact he shared the rats food, and the modicum of authority that came with the position. He got to give orders, at least every now and then, although he had no special talent for this it somehow appealed to his sense of fairness, justice.

Waistband fiddles with the door, pulls it open, rats, actually Dire Rats, spill out, over half-a-dozen of the huge furry rodents- one of them adorned with a red bow. “That’s Angelique.” Da Ratmeister chucks and rubs the huge rat behind its ear, cooing and murmuring all the while. “She’s my special baby, aren’t you Angie.”


Da Ratmeister straightens; Waistband leans round to see beyond him, back down the corridor.


“Dat rayn?” Waistband offers.
“Inside? Idiot.” Da Ratmeister states and tuts.

And yet a line of miniature blooms of dust snakes forward towards the Goblins and rats, each bloom erupting from the stone floor of the corridor, leaving pock-holes in their wake.

“Dats ard rain.” Waistband muses.


Three seconds later the Goblins dance, badly, then slump to the floor, the rats attempt to scarper but are caught in the ‘hard rain’, they too slump to the floor.

A little further up the corridor Auntie folds a pair of National Health jam-jar bottom safety glasses, then replaces the magazine on her Uzi, you can tell it’s her Uzi, it has a knitted cover for the stock, and a bobble-hat which she now slides over the muzzle.

“Infer-something, see in the dark”, she holds the glasses up for The Professor’s inspection, he nods, he too has a pair. “I use them for my knitting, it gets fiddly, especially the bobble-bits”, Auntie finishes and tucks her glasses away.

The Professor fishes out a small torch, shines it down the corridor, the beam is powerful enough to create an instance of daylight; the area is bathed in white- it’s grisly. The Professor turns the beam down and plod-taps forward, Auntie stuffs the Uzi in her handbag and fetches out the Heckler.

“How do we know where to find it?” She asks.
“The Silver?”
Auntie nods.
“We could ask one of them, the Goblins, I suppose, would that suffice Auntie?”
“Can you speak… Goblin?”
“I should think so, I can certainly read the language, it shouldn’t be too difficult, very primitive, a miserably limited spectrum of expression, almost unconcerned with tense. Shall we put it to the test, dear lady?”
Auntie reddens slightly, she likes being called ‘dear lady’,“oh you are a one”, she grins.

The Professor proffers his arm, Auntie threads her arm through his, entwined they promenade, careful to avoid the dead Goblins and Dire Rats.

“Who should we ask?” Auntie asks mid-shuffle.
“A leader type perhaps or indeed anyone that remains alive long enough for a little chat.”

Auntie smirks up at The Professor, the two move on.

Bloodspawn Gutwrench paws at the arm of his make-shift throne, half-asleep, being a boss is an easy life, not like his previous existence; he stares up at his body guards, they shuffle uneasily in his gaze- two of the biggest Goblins he’s ever seen, and yet they flinch. Good. He remembers how it was, before HIM, he remembers the way things were- Jeff Shat’ouse, Latrine Attendant, 2nd Class, that was his previous name and duties, not any more, not likely.

He growls, far deeper and with more menace than any Goblin should be able to. His eyes flick over for a second, the iris’ turning feral yellow, then back again to murky brown, back to normal.

Bloodspawn closes his eyes and sleeps.

Next Turn: Questions and Answers.
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Turn 3: Questions and Answers.

“There seem to be a number of routes we can take, this place is a maze- what do you think Auntie?” The Professor tips his hat back with his walking cane.
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose not Auntie, let’s try this one.”

The two wind their way down the chosen corridor, and round a corner. The Professor backs up suddenly, turns, traces his cane along the wall, and then taps it against the stone.

“Another secret door, my word this place IS a maze, all we need now is a rat to run around it.” He laughs at his own joke, and then sets to finding the opening mechanism.

Auntie rises to her full height, four feet six, in her stockinged slippers. She’s been thinking, you can tell-

“I’ve been thinking. What were you… you know before the ‘end of the world’, malarkey?”
“I was a Professor madam.”
“Of what?”
“Oh, a bit of this- a bit of that; Classics, History, Linguistics, Metaphysics, Physics, Biology, Quantum Mechanics… I dabbled.”
“Sounds like a lot more than dabbling.”
“And you Auntie, what were you before all of this?”

Auntie looks confused.

“I was an Auntie.” She states a little put out.

“No formal employment?”

Again the confused look from Auntie.

“I AM an Auntie, it’s a full time job. I don’t have time for books and hobbies young man. I’m practical- feeding, cleaning, and listening- that’s my job; not made-up mumbo-jumbo- I do stuff, things, you know- people.”

Auntie leans against the wall fumbles in a pocket, there are tears in her eyes, she grasps a crumpled tissue, dabs it at her eyes.

The Professor stops what he’s doing and closes in fast, an arm around her shoulders, a clean hankie, monogrammed- A.Y. “I’m sorry Auntie, I never meant to imply…”
“I just wish this was all over, that we could go back to the way it was, I liked it better, not knowing the world was going to end, and this place.” She looks around, a good hard stare at her surroundings- a dank dungeon corridor, broken stone, pools of water, blood, refuse- it stinks.

“I’m an Auntie, a good Auntie, I knit- oh I can knit, stand still long enough and I’d knit a cover for you. I tell people- there-there, rub the spot, and make it all better again. I bake, I wash, I scrub, I chide, I moan- a little, a little is ok- everybody should moan a little. I’ve got a cat- Mr. Jingles…”

Auntie reaches into her bag, sure enough she has a cat, Mr. Jingles, at least that’s what the collar says, the cat is ancient, one eye, and wheels at the back instead of legs.


Auntie puts Mr. Jingles back in her handbag.

“And where are we? Where? We’re in some future-whatsit parallel dimension-a-thingummy, in a cesspit of a dungeon, fighting God knows what, and for God knows what- oh yes, Silver. And why?”

The Professor nods.

“Because we’re too old, and we’re no use, expendable, we’re entertainment for…”

Auntie spins round on her slippers, one comes off, she puts her foot down in the murk, and points at… us, a silver robot like device floating in the air, one-eyed, recording, a red light says so, sending, a green light says so.


Auntie collapses and sobs, The Professor grabs her, steadies her, presses her too him, he has to bend low for her head to fit over his shoulder.

The camera nuzzles closer to Auntie’s tear-strewn face, rouge rubbed red raw.

The Professor, without looking, swipes his cane back- connects, the camera scuds off to a safer distance.

Minutes tick by, The Professor’s back is hurting, but he’s not moving.

Eventually Auntie disengages, fumbles away her hankie and fumbles out a pillbox, “I think I need to take one of these, calm me down.” Auntie flips the lid, selects one, and swallows down the pill with a sip of lemon barley water, from her handbag.

“You see I think of it a little differently dear lady.” Auntie smiles, she likes ‘dear lady.’

“So society has said that we are no use anymore, there’s not enough to go around; air, food, water- the basics of life. And yet here we are Auntie, performing a social function, we’re pioneers, carving out a new world, making the future.” The Professor finishes.

Auntie sniffs a little, smiles some more, a little more genuine this time.

“I know I’m being silly. It’s just…”
“I know, Auntie. I know- I miss my old life too. But. Here we are. Home Sweet Home.”

The too look about again, nothing’s changed, except for their grins maybe.

“And when we get this done then we can head off home, you can do all the things you miss- be with your family again, and I can go back to my books.”
“For a while”, Auntie adds, “until the next time.”
“Who knows what the future holds, dear lady, it changes every week.” The Professor smirks. Auntie reciprocates.

The Professor shrugs, grins and gets back to opening the concealed door.

“Oh. Door open. Oww. Hell’s bells”

The Professor removes a small needle from the end of his finger; it has pierced his kid-skin driving gloves.

He looks at the spot, there’s a dark stain beneath the skin. Without drawing attention to himself he sucks at his finger and then spits the blood and gunk into his hankie. Nothing seems to be the matter, a little sting- that’s all, he decides to grin and bear it.

“Just a scratch- let’s see what’s inside.”

An empty chamber- that can’t be right.

A thorough search later, actually Auntie gets to hold the torch, The Professor does all the searching, and a secret compartment is found, a beautifully crafted longsword with a silver edged blade, within.

“It’s a primitive tool, and silver- possibly highly prized in this world, I shall take it with me, for later study perhaps.”

The Professor removes his hat and puts the longsword in- blade first, it doesn’t touch the sides, he puts his hat back on, tips a wink at Auntie.

There’s nothing else to find here, they head off.

And find themselves, a little later, back in the auxiliary guardroom, they’ve completed a circuit.

They try another door, and continue their wandering, content to roam what seems to be, according to The Professor, “the western section of the complex.”

They find little of use or interest, several other guardrooms- empty, a kitchen which Auntie has to be forced and cajoled out of- it’s disgusting, an offence to nature in Auntie’s eye. She has of course brought with her washing up liquid and sink cleaner, it’s in her handbag, alongside an assortment of colour-coded clothes, one for every surface and/or stain.

They press on, and swiftly come to the conclusion that the area is either abandoned, or all the inhabitants are deceased.

The pair head east, a little more content with their lot.

Next Turn: Silver = Good.


Turn 4: Silver = Good.

“I think I hear a noise”, The Professor points directly ahead, “that way Auntie, lock and load, dear lady.”

Auntie grins and shuffles towards the sounds. There’s definitely someone, or something, coming.

Around the corner come four Goblin guards, a patrol.

They spot Auntie and The Professor- one laughs, not sure what the stick is she’s pointing at them, but certain that there are two old codgers in range- easy meat.

“Ave yew sin dis?”




The smoke clears, just body parts left, nothing else… hang on, a bloody trail, one of the Goblins survived.

Auntie and The Professor share a look, then shuffle on, neither is particularly into running, nor jogging, it’s more of a I’ll-get-there-in-the-end type of gait.

“Should we perhaps leave one alive, to ask questions? Dear lady?”

Auntie looks over her shoulder, “I’ll go easy on the next one we see, use that thingummy…”

The Professor fishes into his hat, “my Taser, capital idea.”

The two bowl into the next chamber, expecting trouble and thinking that they can cope with it. It’s an odd looking room, somebody trying hard to make themselves seem more important than they actually are- hence the makeshift throne. The mystery as regards who wants to look important is soon over- Bloodspawn Gutwrench is awake, and pissed off.

He’s also got two bodyguards-who rush at Auntie the instance she appears, there’s another Goblin, bloodied, lying by the make-shift throne, dying of his wounds by the look of things.


The Goblin bodyguards scatter, that is they’re blown backwards five to ten feet, onto their backsides, they look at their arms, chests, legs- small pieces of shot fall from them as they shuffle on the floor. They’re unharmed- nothing has broken the skin.

The bodyguards look back to Bloodspawn who whispers- “Kill dem.”


The Goblin’s bodies, twist, shape, crack and claw as they morph into four-and-a-half-feet tall half-Goblin, half-Rat creatures; Wererats.




“Silver, Auntie. Silver. Quickly.”

The Professor draws from his walking cane a long thing blade, silver edged.

The Wererats are getting used to it, Auntie’s shotgun barks and yet they barely flinch, waiting out that barrage.

“GET DEM.” Bloodspawn points the way.

The pair strike, leaping into the fray. The Professor, slices and by some miracle connects with one of the beasts, a thin streak opening up on the Wererats arm- the blood gushes, and will not clot. The Wererat backs away clutching at the wound, unable to staunch the flow, he looks at Bloodspawn, who only watches on, then at his comrade, who is engaged with Auntie, a tug of war over her gun- finally the gun goes flying, Auntie sinks to her backside, stranded for the moment on the floor.

The Professor slices the air before him, wary of the second Wererat, who finally looks around to see his comrade bleeding to death on the floor.

“Yew die.” The Wererat states and then comes again, this time at The Professor, who dances forward to meet the creature, just like his fencing master at prep school taught him, the silver blade darts out aiming for the Lycanthropes heart.

Alas, at the last instant the creature dodges aside, swings its own weapon, a hefty axe, and-


The sword sticks blade is broken off.

“Damn.” The Professor goes to retreat then spots Auntie still sitting on the floor, she needs someone to lift her up, he edges towards her, fumbling for his taser.


Blood flows from the wound on his scalp, The Professor feints away, hits the deck.


Bloodspawn points at Auntie, who’s fumbling in her bag.

The Wererat closes in, then lunges towards her.


Auntie has two knitting needles, one in each hand; they’re buried in the back of the Wererat who slumps to the floor- dead.

“Silver”, Auntie intones, “a present from one of my nieces- a good girl, makes a nice trifle too, although her teas as weak as cat’s widdle, pardon my french.”

She shuffles back to a wall, then uses it as a brace, gets her grip and edges her backside up till she’s in the standing position.

“Oww my knees.” She straightens, stares at the open-mouthed Bloodspawn.

“Who are you?” The creature finally speaks.

“I’m Auntie Edie and this is my friend The Professor, a dear man. We’re from the past or some-such, another dimension. And we’re here for the Silver. Nothing will stand in our way.”

Auntie Edie strides forward- reinvigorated, hemming Bloodspawn in.

“Because as soon as we’re done then we can go home, for tea and scones… and… family.”

The two stop staring at each other like gunfighters before the draw, like chess grand masters, like…

Five minutes later The Professor is awake, his wounds healed- courtesy of ‘Arthur Abernathy’s All Purpose Bolsom and Linctus Mixture’, Auntie has a large bottle of the chalky-syrup in her bag, she swears by it.

“And then what happened, dear lady?”
“Well let’s just say he got my point.”

Twenty feet away the corpse of Bloodspawn Gutwrench lies at an unnatural angle, his body pierced in places he didn’t even know he had places.

“There’s a way down, a grate- a ladder leading down. The bars of the grate are silver, it’s got some writing on it too.” Auntie points over her shoulder to the grate that has been wrenched open in the corner of the room.

“Silver you say, that gives me an idea.”

Next Turn: Recipe of the week.


Turn 5: Recipe of the week.

“Well we could try to make some Nitric Acid; that would help.”

Auntie carries on with the washing up- she’s as happy as a pig in doo-doo.

“I say a clean kitchen is the sign of a clean mind.”

She nods a couple of times and then gets back to washing and cleaning- humming a happy tune.

The Professor tinkers, his hat, it seems, is home to quite a number of bottles, ungents and powders, an entire chemistry set of sorts.

A little while later The Professor has everything he needs, and Auntie has done the pots.

“Right you need to put your goggles on, don’t look at the magnesium when it’s burning. It won’t take long but you’ll notice the difference the Silver should liquefy at a little over 900 degrees. Just keep feeding the sword in- till it’s all gone, it’s fantastic really, no use at all- too soft, who’d have thought a sword made of high grade silver.”

Auntie nods.


The magnesium burns a fountain of molten fire- spitting and crackling; the Silver in the pot shivers and smudges on the bottom- Auntie feeds it in.

“Then up onto the table.”

The Professor holds Aunties hand as he ushers her onto the table. She’s holding the pan of molten silver in her other hand, wearing an oven glove of course.

“Now pour it into the colander, a little at a time.”

The Professor holds the sieve over a huge bucket of freezing cold water.

Auntie pours.

The Silver pearls and gathers then drips through the holes in the sieve, and into the water where in an instant it becomes solid again. Tiny slivers, flecks and spots of the stuff.

It takes a while, but eventually it’s all gone.

The Professor smiles at Auntie, “I’d move out of the way if I were you Auntie, don’t want to get your slippers wet.”

Auntie shuffles backwards, still holding the pan, the oven glove is her own, it states on it, “To the Best Auntie in the Whole World.”

The Professor levers up the bucket, it’s nearly empty, having earlier scooped out as much of the water as possible.

A small wave of water spills out from the bucket, followed by several handfuls of silver fragments- cool to the touch.

The Professor grins, “The wonders of science, dear lady.”

Auntie grins and claps her hands.

An hour later Auntie has twenty special shells for the Heckler & Koch- each have a fair share of silver fragments at their core.

“This should hold them up a while. But I’d stick with the normal shells until you’re certain, don’t want to waste any.”

Auntie nods, smirks, and then hands over a sandwich, “Keep your strength up- ham & cheese, and salad cream, for relish. I’ve got some crisps if you want, or a boiled egg, or a gherkin- great things gherkins, keep you… well you know. And there’s a piece of Apple Pie for pud, and cream.”

Everything named makes its appearance courtesy of Auntie’s handbag.

She settles down for a sandwich too, no crust, she can’t chew that well.

Half-an-hour later, replete, the two head back to the grate in what was Bloodspawn’s chamber.

“What was he then?” Auntie enquires looking again at the stain on the floor.
“A Wererat, that is to say a Lycanthrope.”
“A Like-And-What?”
“Lycanthrope, dear lady, a were-creature, capable of turning into some half-Goblin half-Rat crossbreed when the moon is full, or at times, when the tension is rising.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“Now that’s a good question- why would a creature sorely afraid of silver make its home in a silver mine.”
Auntie nods, nothing to add.
“And why were there three of them, I’m beginning to think that there’s more here than meets the eye. I really do think we need to get hold of a live specimen, find out what’s going on.”
“I’ll do my best Professor.” Auntie winks.
“I know you will dear lady, you always do.” The Professor winks back.

The two shuffle over to the grate, Auntie first, she descends into a lit chamber below.

Halfway down they hear the noises of Goblins.

“Doo yew av Mista Bun da Bunmaker?”
“Das it- der Bunmakerbaker?”
“I av not got Mista Bunmakerbaker.”

They’re playing happy families, ironic really.

“Shh.” The Professor offers.

And yet only five feet from the bottom of the ladder, and as of yet unseen by the half-a-dozen or more Goblins huddled around the table, Auntie’s slipper falls off.


As one the Goblins turn, fumble for weapons.

Auntie does the best she can to descend the ladder as quickly as possible.

Alas, again, too late, a spear arcs towards her, spot on, about to pierce her back.

Next Turn: Is dat pineapple?


Turn 6: Is dat pineapple?

The spear lands flush between Auntie shoulder-blades.


And bounces off, a light blue shivering force field surrounds Auntie for a second, she grins as she flops the last step to the floor, Heckler at the ready.

But before she can fire The Professor appears, something in hand, he throws the object into the midst of the Goblins.

“Duck, dear lady.”

Auntie crouches- turns away from the Goblins.

The bumpy object skitters into the midst of the Goblins.

“Is that pineapple?”


The room shakes, explodes with flame, parts of the ceiling shiver and crash down.

All that is left are charred stumps of the Goblin’s legs- it smells bad. Flames still lick; it’s as if the stone has caught fire in a twenty foot radius, some of the fruit on Auntie’s hat is charred and blistered.

“Cough. Cough. I thought you wanted to keep one alive?”
“Cough. I feared for your safety madam. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

The pair tidy up and head on out.

Another corridor outside of the door, they head off again in a random direction- looking for trouble and the answers to The Professor’s questions.

A little later they get their wish, another Goblin patrol.


Auntie’s Uzi sings- she takes down two of the four in the patrol, the other two look around spot the pair and head off in another direction entirely- screaming.

The Professor dashes forward, holding his hat still with one hand and his taser in the other.


He scores a hit, the Goblin dances a second then slumps to the floor. The other is away.

The Professor heads over grabs the Goblin and slinks down another corridor, at the end of the corridor there are two options, left to a door, and right to what looks to be a large lift.

“Madam, it seems we have located a way down, it also therefore follows that there is something down from here- may I suggest we head that way, with alacrity.”

Auntie catches up, wrenches the concertina-style lift door open, the two dive in.

The pair of them release a lever, the lift descends, somewhere, not very far away, they can hear the sound of Goblin voices- it doesn’t sound as if they want to make friends.

It takes a while, and on the way The Professor makes a discovery, the Goblin is dead- there’s no information to be had here.

“The Goblins seem to have a particularly thin skin, note to self, the taser may be of less use than I first imagined.”

Auntie nods, “Shame, cute little beggar, close up- when you get close up, do you think we’re doing the right thing, oughtn’t we to just make friends?”

The Professor thinks about it, “A kind thought madam, and yet, I fear that what lies below will perhaps be less amenable to that suggestion.”

Auntie nods again, searches in her pocket, “Toffee?”
The Professor nods, reaches in and takes one, it’s covered in fluff.
“Good for you, fluff.” Auntie offers.
The Professor takes his chances, chews.
Auntie does likewise.

“It stiks ta yer…”
“Teef. I gnaw.” She finishes off The Professor’s thought.


The lift’s down, The Professor’s torch beam lances out into the dark, broken by the caged sides of the lift it forms eerie shadows, bars, as if they’re in a cell.

Then a face.


And another.


Obviously one of them was a vegetarian, they’re a mixture of Dwarves and Men, Zombies, they’re closing in.


And then it slows down.




When Auntie realises that the Zombies can’t get the lift door open, fish in a barrel, she blasts away until the six Zombies are dead again.

A short time later the pair are out and exploring their new environment.

“It’s a mine… We’re close. We must be. Auntie we’re nearly home.”

The octogenarian grins, reloads the Heckler, nodding all the while.

In the chamber is a mine cart, it’s on a track.


The Professor raps the side of the cart.

“What do you think?”
“I haven’t got my license.”
“Neither have I.”

The Professor grabs a barrow, overturns it, and uses it to climb into the cart, there’s a brake of sorts- it’s on.

He leans over the side, offers his hand to Auntie.

“Fancy a spin, dear lady?”
“Perhaps a little run, the wind in my hair, it might do me good.”

She grins, takes the proffered hand, and climbs in.


The Professor releases the brake.


The cart trundles forward, into a wall of blackness.

Next Turn: Run-run-RUN-runaway.


Very nice story so far! :)

Is it based on anything?

I'd love some background on this one but I'm content to let the story parcel out info piecemeal.

All three of your story hours are more than entertaining, you sure have a talent for this.

Keep it up! :D


Why thank you, this one took place a couple of weeks ago, my brother turned up with his wife one day- demanded we play D&D, I'd been reading Capellan's X-Path threads and I'd created four characters on a whim; The Professor, Auntie Edie and two others, they picked one each and off we went.

The background material, which is revealed (a little) later was something I just made up on the spot.

Anyway we completed the scenario in the session, there's a good chance the pair of them (The Professor & Auntie) will be back sometime soon...

Thanks again.

For better versions check out Capellan's and Pell-Mell, which I only just discovered last night, they're both great.


Turn 7: Run-run-RUN-runaway.

The Professor’s torch guides the way, the tracks bank hard right, the cart skitters round the corner, the wheels squealing- complaining.

The track ahead flattens out, the cart slows, creeps forward.

Then onto a slight incline- scuttles on down.

Suddenly the cart breaks into a passage, a junction, light and space either side.

It trundles through; a Dwarven Zombie miner watches it past, waving.


The Zombie shuffle-runs after the cart, others join it- in hot pursuit, well- sort of.

“Madam, if you’d like to just change places, I think we’ve garnered several followers.”

Auntie shuffles past The Professor, to the back of the cart, Heckler at the ready. At that exact moment the cart takes another hard right, The Professor is thrown sideways, crashes into the side of the cart, winded.


Off-balance the shot merely brings down part of the ceiling.

The Professor’s torch illuminates another corner ahead, hard right again.

“Brace yourself madam.”

The Professor winds on the brake, the cart takes to two wheels for an instance, at the corner, and then clonks back down on the track. It’s not moving very fast now though.

The Zombies play catch-up.


Auntie’s Heckler sings out, the creatures are scrabbling at the side of the cart, trying to pull themselves up and in.


The last shot leaves just a set of hands and the stumps of arms holding onto the cart; they’re free of the Zombies, the cart trundles on, and slowly round two hard left corners- the track drops away ahead.

“Madam, I think we may have mistakenly opted for the rollercoaster, hold on tight.”

Auntie grabs the side of the cart, stares hard at the The Professor, grinning- she’s enjoying the ride.

The cart dives down, The Professor intermittently applying the break to slow the carts progress somewhat.

The corner comes in a flash, hard-left, hard-left again, the cart takes to two wheels again- plunges on.



And into another patrol, the cart smashes the first creature, a huge Zombie Skeleton, and clips the second, it dives on- slowed somewhat by the impact.

The pair of Ogre Skeletons drag themselves up and clatter after the cart- they’re much faster than the Zombies, and Auntie’s weapon is having less impact.


The first Skeleton, already badly damaged by the cart, is no more; the second grips onto the back of the cart, lashes out at Auntie with its free hand.

The cart turns hard right, The Professor doesn’t know where to look.

“Use the brake.”

Auntie screams, The Professor obliges.


The butt of the Heckler connects with the Ogre Skeleton’s skull, the creature tumbles off the back of the cart, picks itself up and charges after it again.


The cart heads hard-right again, dashes down a slope, then careens hard-left.

“Brake. BRAAAAKE.”
“I assure you madam, I’m trying.”

There’s another corner ahead, hard-left. The Skeleton is up to the cart again.


And then it’s no more- splinters of bone litter the track.

Hard-left, and then ahead, what looks to be a series of small hump-backs.

“Er… Dear lady, perhaps you’d care to join me at the brake.”

Auntie turns and looks ahead, gulps.

“This is fun?” Auntie forces a toffee into her mouth. Shuffles to the front of the cart and joins The Professor’s hands on the brake.

“Madam, you have a strange idea of fun.”


The cart dashes down the first slope, flies up the incline ahead.


Goes airborne for a second and then lands back on the track.

“Perhaps a touch more brake, madam.”

Auntie obliges.

The second hump-back comes and goes, without lift-off.

However the third proves a little more difficult, the speed of the cart is making applying the brake a somewhat hazardous affair.


Metal-on-metal, sparks shoot from where the brakes meet the front wheels.

They plunge down the third hump-back, there seems to be one more ahead, and into yet another Zombie patrol, a bunch of miners- they don’t stand a chance.


All four off the creatures are decimated by the one ton cart moving at a little over fifty miles per hour.

The Professor and Auntie stare back, there’s nothing left to kill, and in doing so miss the apex of the fourth hump-back.

The cart takes to the air again.


Wheels spin, less friction.


The cart flies, lands back on the tracks, dances a moment, then comes back off the tracks.


Then jumps back on again.

“That was close mad…”

And is flung hard-left, and into a death-defying descent, there’s light, far ahead, at the end of the tunnel.


“Ahhh. We may have a problem Auntie.”
“What’s that in your hand?”
“The brake dear lady.”

Auntie leans in.


Kisses The Professor’s cheek and places her hand in his, he grips her hand tightly.

“What was that for madam?” The Professor feels his cheek.
“For luck.”

The cart plunges on at break-neck speed, completely out of control.

“I think it may be best if we jump.”
“I’m not really up to jumping, I could perhaps manage a fall, I’ll try to land on my good hip.”

The Professor smiles at Auntie, grips her hand tighter.

The cart plunges on, the light’s a lot closer now, they seem to have made remarkable time, The Professor calculates that they are travelling in excess of seventy miles per hour now. He decides to keep the information to himself, what they need now is something to slow them, something that’s not the buffers, something to slow them gradually. And then the light ahead disappears, or goes out, no it’s back, much reduced and silhouetting something big.


The cart hits several something’s, departs the track for good, and tumbles over several times, smashing into both walls, and bringing down part of the ceiling, eventually it comes to rest- on its side, and empty.

Then silence for a while.

The first Ogre Zombie is trapped beneath the cart, it’s barely dead (Alive? What is the correct term for the undead?), one hand waves forlornly it seems incapable of lifting the cart off itself.

The Professor lies at an odd angle, a little way behind, unmoving, there’s no blood, but a bone protrudes from his lower left leg.

Auntie lies face up on the tracks, further behind still, eyes tight shut, her chest slowly rises and falls.

The second Ogre Zombie stands, back where the initially impacted with it, feels the space where its right arm, shoulder, and part of its upper chest, once were. It turns, looks around, spots Auntie, the feint pulse off her life spurs it on.


And in seconds it’s looming over her. The Zombie grins, reaches down with a hand and arm that are no longer present, and then spots its mistake, and reaches down with the its good hand.


The creatures head arcs upwards, clunks into the ceiling, and ricochets off into the darkness.

It slumps forward, Auntie at the last instance rolls out of the way.

Breaths hard.


She wrenches herself up, at least on to her hands and knees, and crawls forward- towards the torchlight and The Professor.

He’s still alive.

She shuffles in her handbag, finds her bottle of ‘Arthur Abernathy’s All Purpose Bolsom and Linctus Mixture’ and pours it into The Professor. The effect is miraculous, bones knit together, skin grows anew and in a matter of moments The Professor is whole again, and awake. She takes a glug- there’s not much left, maybe one more dose.

She strokes The Professor’s brow. He must be nearly seventy she thinks; this is no place for a man like him.

“Take your time; you’ve had a nasty bump.” She coo’s.

The Professor goes to smile but has to settle for a grimace- things hurt.

“Where are we?”

“We’re in the mine remember, getting the Silver, and soon we’ll be back home. I think. The light ahead, I reckon that’s all there’s left to do. One more… that’s all. Then home again.”

Auntie cries a little, not loud enough to alert The Professor, continues to stroke his hair and scalp.

A minute later The Professor finds his feet, and with a heave that leaves him gasping for air, rights Auntie.

One of her slippers is gone for good.

The Ogre Zombie still crushed beneath the cart, waves at the pair.



“I think they know we’re coming madam.”

Auntie nods.

“Let’s finish this… What is your real name?”
“My first name?”

Time passes.

“It’s funny… you’ll laugh.”
“No I wont- promise.”

Auntie takes The Professor’s hand again, grips it tight.

“Tell me?”

“It’s- Auspicious.”

Auntie stifles a laugh turns it into a yawn and then settles for scratching her nose.

“That’s nice.”
“My father, although a man of science, had a think about fate- the future. He was… wary of it, and yet…”

The Professor trails off- remembering?

Auntie grips his hand tighter, he’s back to reality.

“I have a brother called Propitious.” The Professor states in the hope that it will somehow make his name seem less odd.

Auntie smiles. It doesn’t.

“Call me, The Professor, or Professor, or Prof though, please Auntie… Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Now come on, let’s see what the future holds.”

The two shuffle off into the light, and as it turns out into the rail-head, the lair of Narzy Hilspek, the mine overseer, a wizened Gnome, and his Zombie mining crew, there are eleven of the creatures, including two more Zombie Ogres.

They stop and stare.

The Professor turns to Auntie.

“You know what my father used to say to me?”
“He said ‘who wants to live forever?’”


Auntie loads her grenade launcher.

The Gnome waves hello, then speaks…

Next Turn: Secrets and Lies.


Turn 8: Secrets and Lies.

“Well, well- what have here?” The Gnome calls out from the back of the chamber.

“My name’s The Professor.”
“And I’m Auntie Edie.”

The two share a look and a smile.

“And why, might I be so bold, are you here?”

“We’re here to close you down.”

The Professor replies.

“For good.”

Adds Auntie.

The Gnome chuckles and smiles.

“May I ask why?”

The Professor thinks about it.

“May I take a seat- it’s a long story.”

The Gnome motions- yes.

The pair find an upturned wheel barrow and do their best to perch on it.

“We’re from the past… you see.”
“A parallel-wotsit.”
“Thank you Auntie, a parallel dimension. Only our home, Earth, doesn’t care so much for its aged- its senior members, we’re expendable. And so, courtesy of a machine called the Wednesday Device, we, groups of old-folk that is, are sent tumbling through the time and space-continuum to complete designated missions.”

The Professor smiles, lights a cigarette.

“And so, if you’d be so kind, we’d like to take the mine, the Silver.”

The Gnome looks a little confused.

“The Wednesday Device? What is…”

“It’s a sort of time machine, invented by a mad-man, an English eccentric, Professor Yaffle, a genius who spent every hour tinkering and scheming on one hair-brained idea or another, much to the chagrin of his family.”

The Professor looks uncomfortable for a moment.

“It’s called The Wednesday Device because it only works on a Wednesday, which, I’ll admit, is a little odd. It was designed to alleviate our, that is Earth’s inhabitants, suffering. You see we’ve not been taking care of our planet, there are shortages- water, food, air; that kind of thing. The Device however proved to be less of a boon than expected.”

Silence reigns.

“I’m listening.” Auntie looks at The Professor, there are parts of the story that she’s still not clear about.

“Well the Device was working fine until a bunch of people failed to return, they were using young men and women at the time- sending them into the future, bright young things fit and healthy and clever. They were ‘Making our Future’, or so they said. Anyway, they sent other groups- they didn’t come back, nobody came back. The whole operation ground to halt for a year or two- until they invented these things.”

The Professor points at the floating camera/recording device.

“They call them Sensechal’s, an ancient word meaning- the Lord’s representative, which seems to me a little grand, but at that time my fa… Professor Yaffle, that is had grown conceited- enamoured with his own genius. He wouldn’t speak to anyone unless it was about his precious Device, or the future, or himself- he was a cold man, hard to like… nearly impossible to love.”

The silence returns, Auntie squeezes The Professor’s shoulder.

“Where was I… Oh yes, the first Sensechal was sent forward in time and came back, much to everyone’s surprise with a blank screen- Earth simply wasn’t there. That was in 2027, Wednesday 7th of April to be exact- the time code on the Sensechal read…”

“Wednesday 8th of May 2041. The day the world will end.”

Auntie finishes The Professor’s sentence then stares into space, wipes a tear from her eye.

“Yes, yes it was… or rather is. As you can imagine there was panic, when it finally got out- wars, hoarding of resources, a general breakdown in society. There were lots of deaths- lots of them, needless, a third of the Earth’s population wiped out in the next three years. Leaving, I may add, a massive number of senior citizens, like us. Things went from bad to worse, more wars- nuclear explosions, the planet was coming to a close- and we were making it come true- the end of the world. Governments failed, countries collapsed back into the dark ages- madness gripped the planet.”

The Professor and Auntie inch closer together, till they’re touching.

“Then on Wednesday 3rd of October 2035, with less than six years to go- in a fit of madness brought on by the death of his father, Professor Yaffle’s son broke into the now sealed Wednesday Device and sent himself forward to Wednesday 15th of May 2041, a week after the world’s end.”

The Professor grins, chuckles.

“And ended up here, or rather on your world, this world.”

He simply states, and looks around. With a semi-triumphant surge he continues-

“And hope grew, snowballed. Governments were formed, advances were made, and lists were drawn up- things that we needed to find, to prolong our existence, we are, it seems, at last, changing the future. There were no more young people to venture ahead and so here we are, the old and infirm, it seems the responsibility is ours once more. The camera is there to watch over us, to broadcast our heroic successes’ to the huddled masses back on Earth, after the event of course, they’re good at editing out all that would cause suspicions to arise. You see our ‘Timeline’ is somehow linked to this place, parallel worlds, this magical realm and our lonely, once green, planet, there the same place- somehow, we call this place Oerth. And so, here we are.”

The Professor levers himself upright, stretches, clicking bones protest.

“Here to ask for the Silver, we need it- it seems more than you, and if you will not give freely, then to take it.”

Auntie shuffles upright, points the Heckler at the nearest Zombie.

“Sorry. No hard feelings.”

The Gnome grins, jumps down from his desk at the rear of the chamber and shuffles a way forward, still protected by his Zombie servitors.

“I don’t know about your story, it’s a little far-fetched. As to the Silver however it’s not mine to give.”

He grins.

“I’m just the hired help around here; you’ve been through this place, the Outsiders rule here, and HIM- Gannu. He lives below with more of his ratty friends. My job… well my job is to get the Silver out, use my staunch minions to make him money; my job is also to make sure that no-one gets past here. So…”

The Professor and Auntie sag- there’s more to come.

“So, if you’d like to just put that… that thing down. Then we can get on with the process, I’m sure you will be happy here, and the future, well there’s really no need to worry. The Undead can live forever, in one form or another, and I’m sure I can find some little jobs for you to do.”

Narzy grins- hands out, gesturing towards Auntie’s Heckler.

“If you’d like to hand that over madam, then you can, perhaps, have a nice little rest. Now won’t that be lovely. No more struggling. No more worrying. No more…”

Auntie grips onto her Heckler.

“Who are the Outsiders?”

“You’ve met them, I should imagine- the Wererats, Gannu’s followers. They live below- hundreds of them. And now, please for your safety, surrender.”

The Professor palms something into his hand.

“I’m sorry we can’t do that.”

“Shame. ATTACK.”

Narzy’s Undead servitors lurch forward.

The Professor skittles the grenade into the midst of them.

“Duck, madam.”


The room lurches left then right, loose stones tumble from the ceiling- smoke billows out bringing stinging grit and flying debris.

The Professor stands there his suit covered in dust, eyes opening and closing, ears dripping blood.

Auntie huddles in the corner, staring hard, waiting for the smoke to clear.

And when it does they’re all gone, as is most of the room- it’s unrecognisable, fires burn left, right and centre. Narzy is beyond dead, a flaming skeleton, the Zombies the same except for one Ogre which lurches and dances on the floor, still burning bright.

The Professor shakes the dust from his suit, coughs a while.

The Professor turns to Auntie.

“We’re still here then, he wasn’t lying to us- we have to go below, madam. This Gannu fellow.”

Auntie nods, reluctant.

“I’m getting tired, and I’m short on ammo. I hope this will be over soon.”

The Professor nods, “I’m out of grenades too. I’m sure it’ll all be over soon.”

And sotto voce adds, “One way or another.”

Next Turn: The end is nigh.


Turn 9: The End is Nigh.

The pair trudge through a series of rough tunnels, they encounter a fair number of deactivated Zombies on their journey- all shapes and sizes. All very dead.

Finally they locate the way down- a cramped room half-full of hacked up, and off, body parts- Narzy’s workroom, and within the mess another ladder leading down.

They press on, there’s nowhere else to go.

And descend into another guardroom whose inhabitants scramble into action, a pair of Goblin creatures, both of whom transform quickly into ferocious wererats. One of the creatures sprints for the door, and is gone.

Auntie fumbles for a silver shrapnel shell.


Loads one in time, the creatures gone, its brief smile fading as it realises the particles of shot embedded in it are silver, it bleeds to death.

The door is flung open and three more of the wererats rush in.


And two more are gone in an instant, the other dodges back out of the room and runs- screaming.


Auntie and The Professor, take in their surroundings, and then share a look.

“Quickly madam.” The Professor states, and shambles off in a half-hop, half-shuffle.

And they’re off.

But slowly, The Professor a little faster than Auntie, but still no match for the rapidly retreating creature.


But much too late, that’s five of the silver shells gone already, fifteen left.

The pair follow as best they can, the sound of the wererat screaming helps them to discern the direction the creature is heading.

They burst into a room, out of breath, the chamber is empty except for a number of sleeping mats on the floor, two exits, wooden doors, one straight ahead, the other to the right, oh and the four large rats that look up from their meal… and attack.


Two down, they’re wasting silver shells on Dire Rats but don’t tell them that.

The Professor fires his pistol but misses by a country mile; the Rat is on him, biting, and drawing blood.

Auntie risks a bite and lunges over and down at the rat biting The Professor, she knocks the creature flying, away from The Professor- the creatures not done for though, it rolls to its feet. Auntie avoids the remaining rats lunge and bite, more through luck than judgement- her force field crackles, it’s a near thing. Up close and personal is not the way to fight it seems.

And then the door ahead opens and rushing into the room come three more wererats.


The Professor curses, knowing how ineffectual he is.


Auntie Edie winks, half-smiles then grimaces, gripping tight to her Heckler.


One of the wererats sinks to his knees then slumps forward.


The Professor gets the other rat; it flops to the floor- no more.


The Professor spins round on hearing Auntie;s scream, expecting the worst.

“ My slipper.” Auntie finishes.

The other rat makes off with Auntie’s last slipper and by the looks of the trail of blood, much of one of her toes as well.


The rat’s gone but alas her slipper’s shredded.

Two wererats rush to attack, it appears that adventurers are in season.


The Professor is bitten, his arm bleeds profusely, and his jacket is ruined. Auntie only just avoids a similar fate, she does however take note of the third wererat, behind the pair they’re fighting, silhouetted, for an instant, in the doorway, the creature grins, and not in a good way, and then runs.


The Professor’s bullet crumples on impact with the wererat’s chest, useless, the creature grins then claws The Professor leaving a trail of bloody marks down his cheek, like duelling scars.

The Professor staggers but manages to stay upright- just.

He’s woozy, wants to give up, to embrace the darkness that hedges his thoughts.

“Fight it, Auspicious.”

And he does, grappling the creature, pouring all his strength into keeping the thing at bay.


Auntie is more successful; the wererat she’s facing head flies back and off, bowling out through the open door into the corridor beyond.

Beside her The Professor struggles, escaping bites and scratches, until…


The shell takes the side of the creatures head off, it slumps to the ground.

Silence reigns.

But for a brief moment.


There’s something coming, another wererat by the sound of things, the sound comes from the open doorway ahead.

Auntie rattles around in her handbag, pulls out her healing potion, ‘Arthur Abernathy’s All Purpose Bolsom and Linctus Mixture’, and throws it to The Professor, who catches it. There’s not much left- one swig.

“It’s been a pleasure knowing you Professor Auspicious Yaffle.”

“You too madam.”

But Auntie’s already gone.

Out of the room, she spins left, at the sound of incoming traffic. A wererat mid-launch fills her vision, then…


She steps aside, the creature splats onto the cold stone floor- dead.

And then there’s nothing.

For an instant.


The other door in the chamber crashes open and standing in the remains of the frame is a huge Ogre Zombie, it seems that not all of the Undead have been deactivated.

Thump- thump.

And then flopping out of the darkness, behind Auntie comes another, she turns.


The creature stops for a moment.

Pats its smoking chest, and then staggers on towards Auntie.


The grenade launcher.



The flash of the explosion illuminates the passageway, there is not one, not two, but three Ogre Zombies, and now back to two again, the third, or rather first in the queue, already hollowed slightly by Auntie’s shotgun, comes apart at the seams.

“Save the Silver, Dear Lady, you’ve only got six shots left, save them for the…”

At the last moment The Professor ducks the Ogre Zombie’s ungainly swing, dodges out of the chamber, and in-between the retreating Auntie and another Ogre Zombie.



The Professor is caught by the Ogre Zombies fist, his head punches into the stone wall, and he slumps to the floor, still clutching Auntie’s healing potion.

His head leaking.


“Oh no you don’t.”

Auntie raises the muzzle of her Heckler, fires another grenade.



The grenade ricochets off of the passageway ceiling, lands behind the creatures, then explodes.

The third creature buckles, twists and falls backwards, dead, there’s one left, now reaching down again to grab The Professor, it’s scorched and battered, on its last legs.

Auntie fires another silver shrapnel shell, there’s no time to hold back now.


The creature slumps forward, onto its knees, and then folds over, burying The Professor beneath its bulk.

Auntie dashes forward.


Another as yet unharmed creature stands in the door way, it lashes out, Auntie ducks, then pokes her gun into the creatures face, or as best she can being a good three feet shorter than it.


Skin peels away to reveal dead flesh and shattered bone, and yet the creature grins, and through the few teeth it has left mutters.


It lashes out again, and this time connects, Auntie’s slammed back into the passage wall, winded.

“Not on your nelly.”

She whispers through gritted teeth, rights herself, and then fires again, a grenade.

[DM interlude, and rolls a “20”]

The grenade lodges in the remains of the Ogre Zombie’s face, an eye socket to be exact, the creature staggers backwards, paws at the foreign object, too late…


Slightly anti-climactic, at least the explosion, the creature’s head detonates, liberally coating the chamber with gunk and ‘bwayns.’

Auntie staggers, she’s low on fuel, delves into her bag, removes her flask of tea, and with trembling hands pours a cup, she gulps it down.

She responds to the tea-some goodness immediately, works out exactly where she is, what’s going on, and what she has to do.

She hides the flask back away.

Then scrabbles on the floor in search of The Professor.

Fwunk Fwunk

She knows he’s in here, ah there he is, or at least that looks like his cravat.

Fwunk Fwunk

And then she hears the sound- more of them, from behind her.

Auntie stands, almost calm now, reloads the grenade launcher, as the first of the Ogre Zombies hoves into view.






And one more for good measure.


The corridor is full of flames, from the burning hulks that fill it- all dead again.

Auntie waits a moment, searches again, this time on her hands and knees for The Professor, a moment later, her bottle of ‘Arthur Abernathy’s All Purpose Bolsom and Linctus Mixture’ empty, The Professor is back from the dead.

Together they pull, push, prise, shuffle and squeeze him out from beneath the dead Ogre Zombie.

“Madam, Dear Lady, I owe you my life.”

The Professor gets to his feet.

“How can I ever repay you?”

Auntie squints at him, thinking hard.

“Do you have any biscuits, a creamy one would be nice, or one with lots of chocolate, or frosting, or jam, even a dipper would be good- although I’ve finished my tea.”

The Professor struggles for a smile, pats his pockets.

“I seem to be right out of biscuits, Dear Lady.”

He looks forlorn.

“Well that’s a packet you owe me.”

Auntie Edie strides off, down the corridor the majority of the Ogre Zombies came from.

The Professor looks about him and then shuffles after her.

Auntie calls back.

“Stay alive Professor, I want those biscuits.”

Unseen by The Professor she grins as she trudges off.

They follow a twisting corridor; Auntie unloads and then reloads the four silver shrapnel shells she has left.

Next Turn: Going, going, Gannu.


Turn 10: Going, going, Gannu


The door opens onto their final destination.

A haunting sound of a single flute ceases as they enter, the echo of its tune fills the huge chamber beyond- a sorrowful dirge.

A series of wooden benches, like in chapel, before a raised dais, atop of which is a comfortable looking throne.

Gannu, a well-dressed young man, with dark hair, lounges on a the throne, to his side a wererat whispers in his ear, before him a pair of Demonic Dire Rats, ferocious horned rodents.

Surrounding the throne a dozen, at least, more rats circle and squeak- others rush into the chamber to join them, the space before the throne quickly becomes a living carpet of rats.

Gannu leans forward places a set of pipes on the floor.

The pair of demonic rats snarl and lurch towards Auntie and The Professor, Gannu tuts, and with a flick of his wrist calls them back to his side.

The wererat draws a blade, runs his tongue up and down the cutting edge, infecting it with its curse.

“So you have discovered my lair. This is not…”


“Bloody kids.”

Auntie grins at The Professor.

The pair blur, become insubstantial, then fade from vision, Auntie waving at the bemused inhabitants of the room.

“Thank you.”

Her last words.

The Professor grim.

The End?


Turn 11: It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.

The lights, the noise- blinded, deafened.

Eventually the crowd subsides, stop cheering, hollering, screaming. The lights dim, flash bulbs pop but not so frequent.

The Professor snakes an arm around Auntie’s shoulders, she’s crying, head down, the emotion has got the better of her.

Bertie Bom-Bom strides onto the stage, microphone in hand.

“Ladles and Jellyspoons. Thank you. Thank you.”

Oblivious to the fact that the applause is not for him.

He closes in on the The Professor shoves the microphone in his face.

“So what can you tell us about your great adventure?”

The Professor raises and eyebrow, leans down to the microphone.

“It was… was…”
“Difficult.” And that’s it.

Bertie drags the microphone back, the crowd simmer, the odd hoop and holler, mostly unsure of what to do.

“And… and so… Tell us which part was the most enjoyable?” Bertie tries to get back on track.

“Enjoyable.” The Professor looks disgusted, he stares daggers at Bertie, fingers something concealed in his pocket.

Bertie looks with panic at The Professor, the crowd now silent, he shuffles over to the sobbing Auntie.

“Clearly an emotional time for you Auntie, is there anything you can add, anyone you’d like to thank?”

Auntie looks up slightly, cries a little more, The Professor tightens his grip on her.

“I’d like… like to thank… The Professor.”

She grizzles and then blows her nose hard, feedback sings and squeals. Bertie and everyone else in the studio clamps their hands over their ears.

Cameras flick from shot to shot- all showing people half-bemused, half-deafened by the squeal.

Bertie gathers it altogether eventually.

Strides away from The Professor and Auntie, arms out, big gestures, the camera finds him.

“And so another adventure completed, the wily Prof, and the brave Auntie Edie have saved the day, remember what were here for today, we’re making the future…”

The crowd chorus “We’re making the future.”

“And so, without further ado, let’s just how much time we’ve just bought ourselves.”

Bertie steps aside, arm waving vaguely at a huge digital readout. Numbers cascade down the screen.

“Drum roll. Now remember the display will show, to the last second, just how much time the actions of these brave senior citizens has extended the life-span of our very existence.”

The first, or rather, last number- far right, clicks into place- “2.”


The crowd moan.

The next number clicks into place- “4.”


The crowd moan again.

“Forty two seconds so far, good start.” Bertie winks at us.

The next number clicks in- “0.”


The next- “0.”


The next- “0.”


The crowd continue to moan.

“Forty two seconds so far, it’s going to be a big one.” Bertie adds.

The next- “0.”


“A real big one.” Bertie whispers.

The next- “0.”


“I can feel it- let’s see, this is going to be a record.”

The last number is- “0.”

“-” The crowd stare- open mouthed.

Bertie opens and closes his mouth.

Dead air, the cameras continue to roll.


The Professor’s Taser makes its way back to his pocket, Bertie slumps and falls, The Professor grabbing the microphone from him during his descent.

“Forty Two seconds. We put our lives in mortal danger, gave everything we had, reduced to terror and ruin with fear and worry, for your entertainment, for forty two seconds more time for you to stare at this idiot box.”

The Professor cuffs the camera it, spins out of control, round and round.

The stage, Bertie lying foetal position on the floor, Auntie still crying, The Professor still speaking- unheard.

The audience, a sea of fifty-something year olds the men in Pringle jumpers, casual slacks and buffed shoes; the women in summery frocks, conspicuous consumerism for all to see, clumps of gold jewellery, expensive haircuts and reconstruction jobs.

The camera spins on, the glimpse of a glass window to the world outside, the dark night, the furze of scattered lights beyond.

Eventually it stops spinning- pointed back at The Professor.

The sound clicks back in.

As does The Professor.

“All that for Forty Two seconds, madness. This place, you people, mad. It’s a disgrace. Look at her…”

The Professor gestures at Auntie who is still head hung low, sobbing with all her heart.

“I said look at her.”

Who knows what the crowd are doing, we can’t see.


But that’s enough two huge men, encased in state-of-the-art body armour, step into view- heading straight for The Professor.


The Professor yells before Security go to grab him.


Electrics fizz above, a light falls free and arcs and strobes, the shattered remains of a ceiling brace clunks to the studio floor.

Auntie sniffs, levels the shotgun at the Security guards.

“Leave him.”

The pair back off- hands raised.

The camera rolls on.

“I’m 87.”

She manages and then almost collapses, such are the heaves and sobs that wrack her body.

The camera hovers closer, for the close-up.


Too close.

The camera spins, ceiling-floor, ceiling-floor, head-over-heels.

It thumps into the glass, which shatters on impact, and then sails out of the building- falls, whistles through the air.

Descending into a city of empty streets, the remains of buildings, houses, cars and people- all broken, many still on fire. A city coming to an end, without hope, without a future…


Next Turn?


We may play this one agai, however the entire scenario was completed in one session, I made up the setting etc. on the hoof, my bro and his wife turned up and wanted to play something different.

I think when he's next in town we'll have a go at the revenge of the rat king scenario.

Thanks for the comments.

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