the Jester
Legend
Me- Sir Percival- roars in anger. The air is suddenly deadly cold. Frost forms on our heroes, who groan in pain as the cone of cold blasts over them. Only Kyle manages to tumble out of the way in time to evade the deadly cold. Gulping in terror, he casts mage armor as the thing’s eyes flick momentarily in his direction.
It is large, broad-shouldered, with bright blue skin and little horns. It wears a cruel demeanor across a broad, flat face. It wears fancy, exotic-looking silk garments. It laughs at Kyle, and then at the rest of our shivering heroes. With a single cone of cold, it just brought most of them nearly to their knees.
But not quite all of them.
Me roars again and paws the floor with one foot, as if he were a bull. He charges the monster and swings with all his might- and connects! His blow cuts into it with incredible force. Bones shatter as flesh and muscle are torn apart. The blue giant gives a surprised yell and drops to the ground, its chest hacked open!
But-
“Its wounds- they’re healing!” cries Sir Colder.
“Ready torcheth and oil!” orders Sir Cedric.
Sir Jorgen and Sir Fwaigo do so, and Otis tries an acid splash directly to the face, dropping it in the monster’s mouth and melting its teeth!* Soon the party is covering the monster in oil and burning it, and soon after that the creature stops regenerating.
“Whew!” declares Kyle. “That was a close one! That guy had magical powers the likes of which I’ve never seen before.” He glances at his master, Otis.
The wizard cocks an eyebrow. “I believe that this creature was an ogre mage,” he states. “I have heard of such things, but I thought they were only legends.”
“Look here,” calls Sir Cedric. “A door, with thtrange markingth upon it.”
The party crowds around. Indeed, a door made of metal is just off of the ogre mage’s chamber. Its face has a strange inset area. The area is shaped like the perimeter of a square, but with round, almost tower-like areas at each corner.
Dahlia and Goer- er, Sir Fwaigo- look at each other. “That piece of metal,” she exclaims. They had found an odd, flattened piece of metal with a rounded end up above, in the manticore’s nest. Not being sure just what to make of it, they had put it away until they had more of an idea. Now they pull it forth and find that it is the right size to fill up one side of the inset area, with the rounded end fitting into one of the corners.
“There must be more of them,” Sir Jorgen thinks aloud.
“Perhaps the other stairways?” suggests Sir Colder.
The party troops back up the stairs, preparing to examine the other stairs in the other corners of the courtyard. As they ascend, Kyle says, “We should be careful. Didn’t we hear that there were two-”
As they emerge in the shattered courtyard of the tower, they fall under instant, furious assault by a second manticore- the mate of the first! She had been out hunting, and now she is out for revenge! Tail spikes cut through the air, and Sir Cedric’s shield deflects a few of them. But then his sword hand takes a hit- and his pinky breaks.
“Crikey!” cries Kyle.
Sir Cedric screams out in pain and horror, “MY PINKY FINGER!”
Otis fades into invisibility as the beast howls and snarls. It springs for him, its nostrils dilating, and Otis shrieks as it rakes him with its claws. Still invisible, he scrambles to get away from it.
Meanwhile, however, Sir Fwaigo has drawn forth his longspear, and he and Sir Percival- who nobody can stop thinking of as simple Me- proceed to harry the manticore from either side. It tears back at them, enraged at their temerity. Sir Cedric, recovering from his momentary loss of morale, angrily smites it at the ankle, hamstringing the beast. He shouts something about his pinky incoherently at the monster.
Then, from behind the cover of some rubble, Otis casts a volley of three magic missiles at the manticore, and she gives a last frustrated yowl and then falls dead before our heroes.
“After that, I don’t think I can go on without resting,” Otis gasps, wincing at his wounds. Dahlia and Sir Cedric move to bind the wounds of the others as best they can, though after the ogre mage they are essentially out of healing magic. Even so, they stop the bleeding and splash some whiskey on the cuts (as well as a little down Cedric’s gullet).
Then the party moves back outside of the ruin to camp. They ensure that they move off a little ways so that they won’t be seen easily by, say, any black magic cultists heading towards a dark ritual on New Year’s Eve. While they are camped, Otis muses, “I wonder if that door is the Gate of Fire.”
The others chew this over for a while. The door had nothing to especially indicate that it was fiery in nature, but it certainly wasn’t an average door. Reluctantly, our heroes agree that Otis might have something there. It’s far from a sure thing- but the possibility cannot be discounted.
Watches are set, and our heroes lay down to rest.
Next Time: Our heroes explore the rest of the stairways! Will they find the hypothetical other three keys? Will they find any black magic cultists, or will any find them? And how long until the inevitable return of Sir Harth??
*Crit!
It is large, broad-shouldered, with bright blue skin and little horns. It wears a cruel demeanor across a broad, flat face. It wears fancy, exotic-looking silk garments. It laughs at Kyle, and then at the rest of our shivering heroes. With a single cone of cold, it just brought most of them nearly to their knees.
But not quite all of them.
Me roars again and paws the floor with one foot, as if he were a bull. He charges the monster and swings with all his might- and connects! His blow cuts into it with incredible force. Bones shatter as flesh and muscle are torn apart. The blue giant gives a surprised yell and drops to the ground, its chest hacked open!
But-
“Its wounds- they’re healing!” cries Sir Colder.
“Ready torcheth and oil!” orders Sir Cedric.
Sir Jorgen and Sir Fwaigo do so, and Otis tries an acid splash directly to the face, dropping it in the monster’s mouth and melting its teeth!* Soon the party is covering the monster in oil and burning it, and soon after that the creature stops regenerating.
“Whew!” declares Kyle. “That was a close one! That guy had magical powers the likes of which I’ve never seen before.” He glances at his master, Otis.
The wizard cocks an eyebrow. “I believe that this creature was an ogre mage,” he states. “I have heard of such things, but I thought they were only legends.”
“Look here,” calls Sir Cedric. “A door, with thtrange markingth upon it.”
The party crowds around. Indeed, a door made of metal is just off of the ogre mage’s chamber. Its face has a strange inset area. The area is shaped like the perimeter of a square, but with round, almost tower-like areas at each corner.
Dahlia and Goer- er, Sir Fwaigo- look at each other. “That piece of metal,” she exclaims. They had found an odd, flattened piece of metal with a rounded end up above, in the manticore’s nest. Not being sure just what to make of it, they had put it away until they had more of an idea. Now they pull it forth and find that it is the right size to fill up one side of the inset area, with the rounded end fitting into one of the corners.
“There must be more of them,” Sir Jorgen thinks aloud.
“Perhaps the other stairways?” suggests Sir Colder.
The party troops back up the stairs, preparing to examine the other stairs in the other corners of the courtyard. As they ascend, Kyle says, “We should be careful. Didn’t we hear that there were two-”
As they emerge in the shattered courtyard of the tower, they fall under instant, furious assault by a second manticore- the mate of the first! She had been out hunting, and now she is out for revenge! Tail spikes cut through the air, and Sir Cedric’s shield deflects a few of them. But then his sword hand takes a hit- and his pinky breaks.
“Crikey!” cries Kyle.
Sir Cedric screams out in pain and horror, “MY PINKY FINGER!”
Otis fades into invisibility as the beast howls and snarls. It springs for him, its nostrils dilating, and Otis shrieks as it rakes him with its claws. Still invisible, he scrambles to get away from it.
Meanwhile, however, Sir Fwaigo has drawn forth his longspear, and he and Sir Percival- who nobody can stop thinking of as simple Me- proceed to harry the manticore from either side. It tears back at them, enraged at their temerity. Sir Cedric, recovering from his momentary loss of morale, angrily smites it at the ankle, hamstringing the beast. He shouts something about his pinky incoherently at the monster.
Then, from behind the cover of some rubble, Otis casts a volley of three magic missiles at the manticore, and she gives a last frustrated yowl and then falls dead before our heroes.
“After that, I don’t think I can go on without resting,” Otis gasps, wincing at his wounds. Dahlia and Sir Cedric move to bind the wounds of the others as best they can, though after the ogre mage they are essentially out of healing magic. Even so, they stop the bleeding and splash some whiskey on the cuts (as well as a little down Cedric’s gullet).
Then the party moves back outside of the ruin to camp. They ensure that they move off a little ways so that they won’t be seen easily by, say, any black magic cultists heading towards a dark ritual on New Year’s Eve. While they are camped, Otis muses, “I wonder if that door is the Gate of Fire.”
The others chew this over for a while. The door had nothing to especially indicate that it was fiery in nature, but it certainly wasn’t an average door. Reluctantly, our heroes agree that Otis might have something there. It’s far from a sure thing- but the possibility cannot be discounted.
Watches are set, and our heroes lay down to rest.
Next Time: Our heroes explore the rest of the stairways! Will they find the hypothetical other three keys? Will they find any black magic cultists, or will any find them? And how long until the inevitable return of Sir Harth??
*Crit!