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Message: <blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 7501924" data-attributes="member: 1210">Let us not forget, this is not the story of Flint and Dzedz and Carl Hungus and Mad Max and Laharl. This is the story of any adventurer or party of adventurers. This is the story of Fandelose. This is the story of the city. The city has many problems. The Coal-Faced Bastards constantly skirmish with the Bronze Tigers, careful not to tread on the toes of the Grey Brothers by dabbling in murder for hire, while the Smoke Fades sit back in obscurity and steal from everyone. The drug trade thrives; of uncertain legality and drawing inconsistent responses, the pooorer sections of the city are replete with everything from the relatively innocuous hempflower to the extraordinarily toxic dzur and everything in between, from nose candy to goofballs. Sometimes the authorities ignore the trade; sometimes, they demand payment to ignore it. At other times, they drive hard into some bad neighborhood or other, Cat's River or Tiger Town or the Breach, and violently prosecute the dealers, meting out summary justice in back alleys and leaving bodies behind. The gangs know better than to respond in kind. The death of even one soldier of the White Battlet leads inevitably to harsh crackdowns, to revenge delivered more violently than any retort the gangs can muster. After all, the army is well-armed and armored, and they have the numbers. The Bastards still rememeber when, about fifteen years past, after a foolish lad caused an unfortunate escalation, even the youngest members of the gang who had been caught were found dumped in the alleys of their part of town, an unmistakable statement that the gangs should not go too far in provoking the army.And then there's the money.***“You there!” Just shy of a shout, the call arrests Dzedz, Flint, Laharl, and Hungus in their tracks. The clatter of hobnailed boots on the cobbles marching toward them announces the White Battlet patrol. “Yes, officer?” asks Dzedz. “This is an illegal currency check,” the lead guard barks. “We need to search you.”Laharl bristles, but Flint lays a hand on his arm and murmurs at him. The group submits to the search. It's either that or start a fight with the Army of Argos, and everyone knows that won't end well under the best of circumstances. “So what's this, then?” At its conclusion, the guard holds Flint's pouch full of silver and gold pieces. “Well,” Flint stammers, “we just re-entered the city from the megadungeon. I was on my way to a moneychanger, I swear!”“A likely story.” The guard shakes his head and the pouch vanishes into the patrol's evidence box. So do Dzedz's coins. The others have already paid the moneychangers their 3% fee to change their gold to marks, and fortunately, the penalty for having illegal currency is no worse than confiscation. So the worst part of the situation is that both Flint and Dzedz are broke all over again. The disgruntled adventurers seek out a tavern to drown their sorrows, with Hungus buying for his two demonetized allies. “I told you you should have changed those coins,” Hungus sighs, taking a sip of his drink. Dzedz snorts disdainfully. “Pay some crooked banker to turn my gold into bronze? I don't think so. Your city's money is stupid. You might as well draw denominations on paper, for all it's worth.” He takes another drink. It will take a lot more of them to drive the sick, dry, decayed flavor from his throat. If not for the Black Temple... he thinks.“It's not worthless,” Laharl retorts, “as long as it pays for my bean juice and wine.”“I guess we can go back in tomorrow or the next day,” says Hungus. “There's bound to be lots more treasure down there.”“Gold pieces and marks,” adds Flint. Dzedz snorts again and shakes his head.“We should have killed those guards and burnt the bodies,” mutters Laharl. ***The next day, the poor all over again party checks in with Lazarus at the Cerulean Tower, with Dzedz hoping that the sages there might be able to provide the formulae for some spells that he could transfer into his own spellbook.“Sorry,” Lazarus says, “the Collegiate isn't really an association of wizards. We're more sages and scholars. We do have a few hedge magicians and ritualists, but...” He shrugs. “However, if you can rescue Mileen, she is the most powerful wizard among us. She can probably help you out.”“Great,” Dzedz grumbles. “On that score, I've got some additional help for you. House Ilmixie is offering the services of one of their number. His name is Rorin. He's actually supposed to be here any time to discuss the matter...”Indeed, half an hour later, the young noble and the adventurers are exchanging introductions. Rorin's bearing betrays the confidence of the young, well-trained, and untested. Yet when Dzedz and Hungus ask for a demonstration of his skills, he shows excellent form with his bow. “All right,” says Flint. “Sounds like we're going back to Marble Hall.”Yet the day slips away, and soon enough it's late afternoon. The party reconsiders, since starting their foray now is likely to leave them locked out of the city gates come nightfall, and settles on meeting up in the morning at one of Fandelose's numerous cafes. There, then, over steaming cups of bean juice, the group straps on its collective weapons, tightens its collective armor straps, shoulders its collective backpacks, and marches on its collective legs to the city gates, where Red Battlet guards wave them out after inquiring about their intentions. Down into the Black Gorge, then back into the megadungeon they go.***The group explores beyond the great ruined bazaar that they had previously found, and before they find any monsters or treasure, they find a trap. The floor swings open, leading not into the pit that they first expect, but into a long chute. They tumble down, seconds passing to mark how far they are falling, and then, shouting in dismay, they spill through a one-way metal flap that slaps closed behind them. They drop heavily onto a stone-floored chamber, leaving them momentarily stunned. Before they can regain their feet, something horrifying squirms out of an alcove to attack them. The thing is vaguely worm-like, with a green body and a yellow belly. It is as thick around as a man's waist. Its front end has several tentacles surrounding a vicious beak. It lashes out viciously, delivering a terrific wound to Laharl immediately and wrapping its tentacles around him. The thing makes a strange chirring noise as it tears into the warlock with its beak. Laharl screams, struggling to pull away- and the thing rips him in two. Blood and gore shower the others, who, though staggered from the fall and surprised by the sudden attack, scramble to their feet and draw weapons. Carl Hungus rushes forward and swings his maul, connecting solidly. And yet, the serpentine monster seems barely hurt. It turns on him, tentacles flailing. “It's resisting my weapons!” Hungus cries. Flint leaps in next to him, only to be yanked from his feet by those tentacles. The monster's slavering beak tears at his face, and the halfling shrieks in pain. “Help! It's got me!”Dzedz steps right up to it and chants the syllables of a thunderwave. A tremendous report echoes through the room and down the halls. The monster tumbles back away from Flint, its grip broken, and Rorin manages to hit it with an arrow, doing some damage. The thing rights itself and scrambles back forward. From down the hall, the sound of more chirring comes. Flint and Hungus move to flank the monster, their weapons barely effective against it. “What is this thing?” the halfling cries.Whatever it is, two more of them arrive, squirming their way into the chamber. Tentacles lash out, beaks dig into flesh. Groaning, Hungus falls onto one knee. Desperate, head swimming, he lays hands upon himself, trying to stave off doom.Too little, too late. A beak rip into him. The monster trills, almost purring, as Hungus' blood sprays out. The dragonborn collapses. “Crap!” cries Rorin, leaping to the front, bow discarded, sword whipping free of its scabbard. He strikes, stabbing one of the monsters, trying to drive it back. Flint thrusts his rapier with all the adroitness he can muster, striking for whatever vitals the creature might have. But it isn't enough. Dzedz sends a flame bolt sizzling into the most wounded monster, and finally it falls. But even as it does, the other two flail at Flint and bring him down, too. Collapsing, breath shallow, he groans once as his rapier tumbles from his hand to rest beside his unconscious form. This isn't good, the wizard thinks grimly. Rorin stabs and cuts, but the monsters barely seem to feel his blows. Unfortunately, the young noble does feel their attacks, and screams in pain as a beak rips into his side. Blood starts to pour down, soaking the left half of his body.“Help!” Rorin cries. “What do you think I'm doing?” shouts Dzedz, casting another fire bolt. The flames do seem to affect the monsters; the one he hit recoils momentarily, and the smell of burnt flesh tickles his nostrils. But the two monsters both still stand, and their tentacles smash into Rorin, leaving rough wounds on him. For a moment, he weaves on his feet. Then Rorin falls, and Dzedz stands alone. Desperate, the wizard steps up next to the monsters and casts another thunderwave, blasting them back away from Rorin's bleeding form. Neither one falls. Both right themselves. The first- the one that is less wounded- wiggles forward, lashing out at Dzedz. Its tentacle slaps at Dzedz, and for a split second he considers casting shield to protect himself. But he is almost out of spells already. To do so would be to forfeit the chance of another thunderwave. So he suffers the blow, staggering back a step, before unleashing another desperate flame bolt, this one at point blank range. He hits the monster again, wounding it further. Then he realizes that the second monster isn't threatening him, because it is maneuvering to eat the unconscious Flint. Its razor-sharp beak stabs down into the halfling's throat. No choice, thinks Dzedz grimly, and steps away from the monster threatening him. “Come on, you bastard!” he yells, as it strikes at him and misses. “Follow me!” It's a dangerous maneuver, but he draws the monster closer to the one eating Flint, and as soon as they are close enough together, he catches them both in his last thunderwave.KRACKABOOM!The two monsters are blown backward. The one that had been starting to eat Flint doesn't rise. Unfortunately, Flint's limp form is also caught by the spell, and flips end over end, coming to rest against one of the walls of the chamber. He is very still. The final creature squirms forward, tentacles seeking its foe. Dzedz backs hurriedly away, then unleashes another flame bolt. He misses. The monster closes on the last of its prey that is still moving. Its tentacles seek him, slapping out. And it misses, too.One last chance, Dzedz thinks desperately. And he casts another flame bolt. This time, he hits the creature square in the head, burning it badly. It squeals, tries to turn around, and collapses. In the sudden quiet, the only sound is Dzedz's gasping breath. How many levels deep am I? he wonders.Next Time: Is anyone but Dzedz alive? Things have gone very, very wrong for this party of adventurers. Fortunately, there are others...</blockquote>

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